,-/ //i €UM. K ^^ ■^ «;vfrr>- .. >o^ ^^ 'ifi^^te Af?d lo! ^po^rkri^W 5b? Jiin^^iq? fair: •ii; t5ou^l?rteo|{;(jap?,ai;d ^r^W Jnb^auiyfj^^r^- Slje bloc/orrj J a^d tij? birJj, Slp^oop^ and dr^arn, Aenjori^j too /v/^^r/or Wordy— 5!??J«W?r?l?i5f^?rn?. V :-l^ff 1 ea 5^^ bird J you^ljfdffjfrflinjfy, fel^^flov/^r; w?rf jTorjf, Y^r^till 1^^ po^r'5 njyni^^ IW^ ^\}^r oq. H^r^ ar^ tlje/unbfarTij yrorfd- No rielj^r pl^a/ur? ^an t^? Wid? World a//brd Frorn all ber frea/urf. f^^ad.and a v^i^ior? bri^l;)f And yon lone eandl^'/ iidbr flfurj^ballb^; '' Memory and bop? and dr^aro ;fiall all b^ ffjifl^, And FSn§^^s%^ m^^^^^mE ;%Kffii!^ m Statue of "Poetry." (Grand Opera House, Paris.) \ t: JEMS OF GENIUS IN POETRY AND ART, FROM THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF THOUGHT; AXD INCLUDING MANY PROSE SELECTIONS, A BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX OF AUTHORS, EJC. By Frederick Saunders, Librarian of the Astor Library, Author of " Salad for the Solitary AXD the Social," " Evenings with the Sacred Poets, Etc., Etc, r. M. 1^7 Davis, Author of " Fairy Gold," "Life of Rt, Hon. W.E. Gladstone," " The Lol- lard : A Story of the Wiclifites, Etc., Etc. - V ILLUSTRATED "" 2'^""'«^)/ By One Hundred and Tex Portraits of Authors, Numerous . / Autograph Stanzas in Fac-Simile, and Many Other Pictures by Eminent Artists and Engravers. 6 ST. LOUIS AND PHILADELPHIA : SCAMMELL & CO., PUBLISHERS, 1888. n^\^{ COPTRTGHT, 1888, BY H. B. SCAMMELL A II Rights Reserved. 'HE subject of Poetry has perhaps been discussed by a greater number of thinkers than any other connected with letters ; but no one has as yet suc- ^ ceeded in defining the term to the satisfaction of his brother critics. To attempt that wherein so many of skill and experience in the expression of ideas have so signally failed, would be the part of one who has not even studied the subject sufficiently to know where the difficulty lies. It will then, perhaps, be better to be contented with an effort to explain the principles underlying the arrangement of the selections in the following pages; trusting that the reader may discern that not only the verses, but the prose extracts likewise herein given, have been chosen because they possess this same indefinable property which we call Poetry. The most obvious theme for a writer to choose is either a description of what he perceives f or what he feels. Taking first the Emotions as the moving spring, as the power which urges him to expression, the natural question arises : What kind of feelings? Is he to speak of joy or of sorrow? Is he to touch upon the ties that bind him to others ? Is he to put into words the highest aspirations of which man is capable ? All these form fitting subjects for the writer, whether he put himself, or some imaginary self, into his pages ; and Joy and Sorrow, TheAf- fectionSy and Religion have for ages been the themes upon which our best and brightest minds have loved to think. But emotion is passive ; there is the result of it which follows naturally as the fruit succeeds the blossom. From mere feeling, deepened and strengthened, comes Passion, and passion produces Action, The man of letters, then, who has sounded the depths of feeling, turns naturally to its outgrowth, and depicts the stronger powers that control the human soul; painting, with the utmost contrast of light and shade, the image of doing. Turning now to the other subject which has been mentioned as iikely to be chosen at first, we can readily perceive the divisions into which the productions of the pen will fall. He may write of Beauty, as it is manifested in nature and art ; of Characters, Persons, and of Places. The last group, it must be understood, comprehends not only the '' few, the immortal names, " but the various types of character with which we daily meet, and which are the study of the phil- osopher. Here too may be considered those creations of the mind which have vi PREFACE. impressed the world of readers with their personality ; for when savants gravely discuss the question of Hamlet's sanity, surely we must acknowledge that there may be real men and women who have never trod the earth. But there is more than the expression of emotion and perceptions to deal with ; there is the realm in which Thought holds the higher place. In this division, there is, first and foremost, Beflection, or the application of the results of feeling and experience of externals to the inner life, thus aifecting the outer life as well. The mind manifests itself in another, and totally different way, next; no longer grave and wise, it gives itself up to the wildest dreams; and in these, when cun- ningly imbued with that "drop of human blood" which is necessary to give interest, we have the pleasing flights of Fancy. Finally, the mental powers, having thus far relaxed their grave efl'orts, resolve to throw care to the winds, and give themselves up to Wit and the more kindly ^wmor. Such is the theory upon which the arrangement of the selections which follow is based. In practice, however, the classification is often extremely difficult. The broad lines which have here been marked out as dividing the varieties of mental effort are often obliterated in a single page; and the writer will, in the course of a few paragraphs or stanzas, pass from description of beautiful scenes, to the persons who beheld them, and to the emotions aroused in the breasts of these men and women to whom he thus gives existence. Without, then, proposing the arrangement herein adopted as perfect, or even the best that could possibly be made, it is submitted to the reader as the best of which the editor is capable; trusting that the kindliness excited by the sight of so many representatives of favorite authors may lead him to more en- joyment than fault-finding. M. K. Davis. Title. Author. Page. Nature and Song M. K". Davis... Cover LINING Nature and Books M. K. Davis Fly LEAF Preface M. K. Davis v Contents vii List of Illustrations xviii List of Portraits xxiv List of Autograph Fac- similes xxvi Good News, or Bad? G. Weatherly 29 Sunlight and Shade G. Weatherly 29 Under My Window T. Westwood 80 Little Bell T. Westwood 30 Babie Bell's Coming T. B. Aldrich 31 Companionship with Chil- dren N. The Gambols of Children G. Mother Nature C. Tbe Merry Heart H. The Komance of the Swan's Nest E. B. Browning... 33 Sonnet: "Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night" S. Daniel 35 Some Murmur When Their Sky is Clear E. C. Trench 35 Sonnet; "Life, joy and splendor with the year awake" Anonymous ........ 35 Selections from "The Prin- cess " A. Tennyson 36 The House of Clay Anonymous 36 A Ballad upon a Wedding Sir John Suckling 37 On the Threshold Anonymous 38 Invocation to Sleep Beaumont and Fletcher 39 A Question M. Arnold 39 Hawthorne 31 Darley 32 Young 33 H. Milman -33 Title. Author. Page. It Never Comes Again E. H. Stoddard... 39 Alone E. A. Poe 40 The Baby, G. McDonald 41 At the King's Gate Anonvmous 41 Keys B. Chandler 41 Maidenhood H.W. Longfellow 42 The City of the Living E. A. Allen 43 Beyond the Gate K. M. Eice 43 Best A. J. Eyan 44 The World Goes Up and the World Goes Down C. Kingsley 44 Song, "When the dimpled water shppeth" J. Ingelow 44 Sonnet: "Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot" ....Sir Philip Sidney.. .45 A Dream A. A. Procter 45 Driving Home the Cows K.P. Osgood 46 The World's Indifference W. M. Thackeray 46 Waiting Anonymous 47 The Lady's Dream T. Hood 48 Auld Eobin Gra}^ .Lady Ann Lindsay 49 Ode to Adversity T.Gray 50 Eock Me to Sleep E.A.Allen 51 Oft in the Stilly Night T. Moore 51 Affliction Louise DeLaEame 51 Weariness H.W.Longfellow 52 Song, from "The Prin- cess" A. Tennyson 53 Enoch's Eeturn A. Tennyson 53 Complaint J. G. Holland 55 To The "Eve" ofPowers H. T. Tuckerman..55 Ode to An Indian Gold Coin J. Leyden 55 Break, Break, Break A. Tennyson 56 The Old Familiar Faces C.Lamb 57 The Barefoot Boy J. G. Whittier 57 Sleeping and Watching E. B. Browning..,.. 59 viii CONTENTS. Title. Author. Page. The Moneyless Man H. T. Stanton 60 Songs of Seven J. Ingelow 61 The Return of Rip Van Winkle W.Irving 67 A Song of Long Ago J. W. Riley 71 Down on The Suwannee River Anonymous 71 Beautiful Snow Anonymous 71 "Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt" W. Shakspere 72 Song : from "As You Like It" W. Shakspere 73 " On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year" Lord Byron 73 Lines W^ritten by One in the Tower, Being Young and Condemned to Die C. Tychborn 73 Juliet Taking the Opiate "W. Shakspere 74 The Mitherless Bairn W. Thorn 75 Desolation of Balclutha J. Macpherson 75 The Song of the Shirt T. Hood 77 Life T.Hood 78 Parting Anonymous 78 Barbara's Song W. Shakspere 78 Secret Sorrows George Eliot 78 Saturn andThea J. Keats 79 lo Victis W. W. Story 80 Annabel Lee E.A. Poe 81 Florence Vane P. P. Cooke 81 " Home they brought her warrior dead" A. Tennyson 82 The Old Arm Chair E.Cook 82 Lucy .....W. Words worth... 88 Longing for Death P. Massinger 83 Somebody's Darling M. R. Lacoste 83 Vanished Blessings Gr. Wither 83 The Blind Old Milton E. L. Howell 85 Migration E. M. Thomas 85 Dirge P. D. Hemans 85 The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire J. Ingelow 87 The Death Bed T. Hood 88 Lines W. D. Gallagher..90 The Voice of the Waves C. Dickens 90 The Disappointed E. W.Wilcox 91 The Apples are Ripe in the Orchard W. Winter 91 Misshapen Lives George Eliot 91 The Sands of Dee C. Kingsley 93 Beyond the Veil H. Vaughan 94 Title. Author. Page Dirge for a Young Girl J. T. Fields.... ...o.94 Song: "If I had thought thou could'st have died"... C. Wolfe 94 To Mary in Heaven R. Burns 96 A Farewell M. E. Cook 95 The Three Fishers C. Kingsley 97 Sonnet: "What doth it serve to see sun's burning" W. Drummond 97 The Sack of Baltimore T. Davis 97 The Dead Mariner G. D. Prentice 98 The Picket Guard E. L. Meers 99 My Child J. Pierpont 100 Selections from "In Memo- riam" A. Tennyson 101 " Softly woo away her Breath B. W. Procter. ..103 low. 104 104 The Phantom B. Taylor.... Sonnet: "Sweet Spring, thou turn'st with all thy" W. Drummond. ..105 Death of Gabriel H. W. Longfel- low 106 There Is No Death „...BulwerLytton....l07 The Bridge of Sighs T. Hood 108 Olden Memories C. Cist 109 The Death of the Babe Christabel G. Massey 110 Mourning W. Shakspere 110 Death of Ophelia W. Shakspere... .111 "Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom" Lord Byron Ill Grandmother's Sermon Anon3''mous Ill Found Dead H. Jackson 112 "I have been a happy man " N. Hawthorne.... 112 Death at the Goal B. Miller 113 Remembrance A. M. F. Robin- son 113 "Sweet by-and-by" E. J. Hall 115 Loss J. Ruskin 115 The Georgia Volunteer Anonymous 116 In Watches of the Night W. "Winter 116 Spoken After Sorrow J. C. Marsh 116 In Time to Come Anonymous 117 "When shall we three meet again?" Anonymous 117 The Long Ago Lord Houghton. ..117 Sea Ventures Anonymous 118 Annie's Dream A. Tennyson 118 The First Snowfall J. R. Lowell 119 JhE ^ffECTI0N3. On the River J. A. Blaikie 122 The Mother's Vigil J. F. Fargusson...l23 Etude Realiste C. A. Swinburne ..123 Better Moments N. P. Willis 123 A Mother's Love F. Johnson 124 Little Childreri L, A. Boieg„ooo,...J25 CONTENTS. IX Tiile. Author. Page. Sundered Friends N. Perry 125 The Bridge of Snow Anonymous 125 A Mother's Love T. Burbidge 126 " He that loves a rosy cheek" T. Carew ..127 Woman, the Home-Maker T. Campbell 127 What It Is to Love C. Swain 127 To a Child Embracing His Mother T. Hood 128 A Woman's Forgiveness Sir W. Scott 129 Kosalind's Madrii^al T. Lodge 129 The Flower 0' Dumblane R. Tannahill 129 The Gift A Webster 130 Lullaby A.Tennyson 130 **0h, merry, merry, betheday!" J. H. Perkins 130 The Flower's Name E. Browning 131 Song: "Where wind and water meeting made" W. Motherwell... 131 The Mother's Hope L. Blanchard 133 Description of Castara W. Habington....l33 The Angel's Whisper S. Lover 134 My Nell S. Doudney 135 The Minstrel's Call S. T. Coleridge... 135 Love's Burial Place S. T. Coleridge... 135 All June I Bound the Rose in Sheaves E. Browning 137 "This is a Spray the Bird Clung to" E. Browning 137 On Her Birthday Anonymous 137 The Influence of Woman Beaumont & Flet- cher 137 Sonnet to a Friend W. Shakspere 137 Beauty Eohtraut G. Meredith 138 Sonnet to Love W. Shakspere 139 Love's Sweet Memories S. J. Clarke 139 A Holiday Idyl Anonvraous 139 To * * * * P.B.Shelley 140 From the Dedication to "The Eevolt of Islam" P. B. Shelley 140 Boyhood W. Allston 140 My Letter Anonymous 141 The Land of Love J. B. A. Karr 142 Home Happiness C. Swain 143 Love is a Sickness S. Daniel 143 Ballad: *T11 never love thee Marquis of Mon- more" trose 144 My Saint Anonymous 144 Lochaber No More A.Eamsay 144 When the Kye Come Hame...J. Hogg 145 Her Letter B. Harte 146 From "The Day is Done" H. W. Longfel- low 148 Love's Ghost P. B. Marston 148 Concealed Love W. Shakspere 149 Go Sit by the Summer Sea J. Shirley 149 Song: "Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast" E. B. Sheridan.... 150 Title. Author, Page> "Is She Biding?" S. M. Peck 150 She Walks in Beauty Lord Byron 150 My Own Shall Come Anonymous 151 Through the Meadow W.D.Howells....l51 Cupid Defied W. Shakspere 151 Yesterday M. M. Forrester..l53 Why Not? E. H. Stoddard ...153 The Interpreter E. M. Thomas 153 To the Evening Star J. Leyden 154 My Only Jo and Dearie O E. Gall 154 Sonnet : " The forward violet thus did I chide" W. Shakspere 154 Song: "Tell me, where is f^mcybred?" W. Shakspere 154 Your Coming D. E. Goodale....l55 Qua Cursura Yentus A. H. Clough 156 The Chess Board Owen Meredith... 156 " Take, oh, take those lips away" W. Shakspere ....156 The Doorstep E. C. Stedman....l57 Music and Love W. Shakspere 159 From "The Song of the Camp" B. Taylor 159 The Lily Pond G. P. Lathrop....l60 Balcony Scene, from "Eomeo and Juliet" W. Shakspere 161 Treu und Fest Anonymous 161 The Blue-Eyed Lassie E.Burns 161 A Madrigal P. H. Hayne 163 " 0, had my love ne'er smiled on me" E. B. Sheridan. ...163 Serenade. Sir W. Scott 163 Love H. B. Stowe 163 AYhen Stars are in the Quiet Skies Bulwer-Lytton...l64 The Sweet Neglect B. Johnson 164 " Do you remember how we used to pace" T. Westwood 165 Jeanie Morrison W. Motherwell.. 165 Come into the Garden, Maud.. A. Tennj-son 166 Who is Love J. Miller 167 Song: "She is not fair to outward view" H. Coleridge 167 " Don't be sorrowful, darling".. E. Peale 168 A Woman's Question A. A. Procter 168 The Coquette C. Swain 168 How Do I Love Thee E. B. Browning ..169 Love's Impress E. Hinxman 169 To Celia B. Johnson 169 Othello's Defense W. Shakspere 171 Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott. 171 A Glimpse of Love T. B. Eead 172 Absence T.Campbell 172 Euth T. Hood 172 Song : " Why so pale and wan, fond lover" Sir J. Suckling... 173 CONTENTS. 7H,tle. Author. Page. Send Back My Heart Sir J. Suckling... 173 Love, from " The Maiden Queen" J. Diyden 173 Bright, O Bright Fedalma 1 G-eorge Eliot 175 A Health E. C. Pinkney 175 The Gold Hunter J.Miller 175 Farewell to Nancy R. Burns 176 The Lady's Looking-Glass M. Prior 176 Wooing StufFe SirPhilip Sidney.176 "Believe me, if all those en- dearing joung charms" T. Moore 177 Love R. Southey 177 " 'Tis like a tale of olden time" G. Massey 177 " Hollow is the oak beside" Bulwer-Lytton....l79 "If I desire with pleasant songs" T. Burbidge 179 Evel^-n Hope R. Browning 179 SongofEgla M. G.Brooks 180 Love Letters R. Brown. 180 Song : From "Supper at the Mill" J.Ligelow 181 On "Woman's Inconstancy Sir R. Ayton 182 Annie Laurie Douglas of Fing- land 182 To Althea, from Prison R. Lovelace 182 Song : " It was a lover and his lass" W. Shakspere ....183 Comin' Through the R3^e Anonymous 183 Song: "Ask meno more" T. Carew 184 Go, Lovely Rose. E. Waller 184 " Filled with Balm the Gale Sighs on" T.Moore 184 John Alden and Priscilla H. W. Longfel- low 185 Stanzas: " As when a lady, walking Flora's bower" F. Quarles 185 Title. Anihor. Page. At the Church Gate W. M. Thacker- ay 186 Triumph of Charis = .B. Jonson 187 Song : " Withdraw not those lips and fingers" T. Campbell 187 Good jVlorrow T. Heywood .187 To Lucasta Sir R, Lovelace...l87 Cupid and Campaspe J. Lyly 187 Song : " Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more" W. Shakspere ....188 To the Lady Anne Hamilton..W. R. Spencer.. ..188 The Passionate Shepherd to His Love C. Marlowe 189 The Nymph's Reply Sir W. Raleigh. ..189 Freedom and Love T. Campbell 189 Love's Philosophy P.B.Shelley 190 Song: "Look out, bright Beaumont &Flet- eyes, and bless the air" cher 191 The Old Couple Anonymous 192 The Exchange S. T. Coleridge....l92 The Land o' the Leal Lady Nairn 192 Allen-a-Dale .Sir W. Scott 193 Genevieve S. T. Coleridge ...194 " Farewell ! but whenever you welcome the hour" T. Moore 194 Morality in Art... ....V. Cousin 194 The Lake of the Dismal Swamp T. Moore 195 Proposal B. Taylor 196 Love S. T. Coleridge.. 197 A Petition to Time B. W. Procter 198 Sonnet; " In the long, sleep- H. W. Longfel- less watches of the night"... low. 198 Epithalamium .J.G. C.Brainard..l99 John Anderson R. Burns 201 The Gude Wife J. Linen 201 "Not Ours the Vows" B. Barton 202 n Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity J. Milton 205 A Christmas Hymn A. Domett 209 Come, Ye Disconsolate T. Moore 209 The Mystic's Christmas J. G. Whittier....211 " I would not live alway" W. A. Muhlen- berg 211 Christmas in the Woods H. Weir 212 Tl)e Wonders of All-ruling Providence J. Keats 213 The Bible R. Hall 213 God's Acre H. W. Longfel- low 214 Redemption J. Dryden 214 Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me A. mI Toplady...214 The AVinged Worshipers C. Sprague 215 The Good Old Times R. Heber ....215 ELiqiOjM. The Cotter's Saturday Night...R. Burns.. 216 Hymn : " Abide with me"....H. F. Lyte 221 The Wmeij and Nine E. C. Clephane...222 It's Ain Drap o' Dew J. Ballantine .223 Nearer, My God, to Thee S. F. Adams 223 Sonnet on His Blindness J. jNIilton ....223 Lines Written in His Bible.. ..Sir W. Raleigh ...223 Address to the Unco Guid R. Burns 225 The Burial of Moses C. F. Alexander ..225 Self-Knowledge T. a Kempis 226 Evening in Paradise J. Milton o.oc227 Example J. Keble , 229 Song: "The harp at Nature's advent strung" J. G. Whittier....228 Jesus, Lover of My Soul C. Wesley ...228 From " Miriam" ..cJ. G. Whittier....229 Morning Hymn ..J. Milton....... ...230 CONTENTS. XI Title, Author. Page. Nearer Home P. Carey 230 The Statue in Clay E. H. Stoddard... 231 Up Hill C. G. Eossetti.. ..231 Trust Anonymous 232 The Dying Christian to His Soul A. Pope 233 The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers F. D. Hemans 233 The Sleep E. B. Browning. ..233 Abou Ben Adhem L.Hunt 234 The Temple of Nature D. Vedder 234 Time and Eternity E. Heber 236 Invocation to Light J. Milton 236 Whatever Is, Is Best Anonymous 237 Love S. P. Jones 237 From *'Eifts in the Cloud" W. Carleton 238 The Hermit T. Parnell 239 No Sects in Heaven Anonymous 243 Missionary Hymn E. Heber 244 Prayer J. Montgomery... 245 Title. Author. Page. "Hail the High, the Holy One" J. Montgomery... 245 Habit J. Taylor .245 At the Last V. Hugo 246 Virtue G. Herbert 246 God... Derzhavin 246 Sometime M. E. Smith 247 Ode to the Creation A. Marvell 248 Light E. Elliott 249 Alone A. J. Eyan 249 Only a Little Way Anonymous 250 The Pauper's Death-Bed C. A.B. Southey..250 Life G. Herbert 251 The Star of Bethlehem H. K. White 251 The Elixir G. Herbert 251 The Spilt Pearls E. C. Trench 252 Man's Medley G. Herbert 253 Habit Sir T. Browne 254 Benevolence J. Beattie 254 The Armada T. B. Macaulay...257 The Peri's Offering T.Moore 258 Belshazzar B. W. Procter... .259 Bruce's Address E. Burns 260 Patriotism Sir W. Scott 261 Lochiel's Warning T. Campbell 262 The Burial of Sir John Moore..C. Wol fe 263 Marco Bozzaris F. G. Halleck 264 Ode to the Brave W. Collins 265 An Ode Sir W.Jones 265 America S. F. Smith 266 The Traitor, from "Lalla Eookh" T. Moore 267 The Bard T. Gray 267 The American Flag J. E.Drake 269 The Star-Spangled Banner F. S. Key 270 Maryland J. E. Eandall 271 Music in Camp J. E. Thompson..271 Monterey C.F.Hoffman 272 From "The Sword of Cas- truccio Castrucani" E. B.Browning... 273 Arlington J. E. Eandall 273 Vindication E. Emmet 274 Cavalry Song E. C. Stedman....275 Battle Hymn of the Eepublic Mrs. J. W.Howe.275 "As by the shore at break of" T. Moore 275 py^gglOJM AJMD yVcTlOJM, Beauty and Song T.Moore Love of Nature in the Decline of Life Lord Lytton. The Seasons, from "The Fai- ry Queen" E. Spencer.... 5 The Patriot's Pass Word J. Montgomery... 276 The Harp that Once Through Tara's Halls T.Moore 277 The Bivouac of the Dead T. 0' Hara 277 " Yes, 'tis not Helm nor Fea- ther" T.Moore 278 The Death of Marmion Sir W. Scott 278 From "Marmion" Sir W. Scott 279 Conquest of Jerusalem by the Crusaders E. Gibbon 279 Twilight on the Battlefield Sir W, Scott 281 Destruction of Sennacherib...Lord Byron 281 Ivry T. B. Macaulay...283 Song of the Greek Poet Lord Byron 285 How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix.,..E. Browning 286 The Fall of Wolsey W. Shakspere....288 Fear W. Shakspere....289 The Shipwreck Lord Byron 290 The Dream of Clarence W. Shakspere....290 Henry V. to his Soldiers W. Shakspere....291 A Spanish Bull-fight Lord Byron 292 The Ingratitude of Eepublics..W. Shakspere.. ..293^ The Prisoner of Chillon Lord Byron 294' Ensign Epps J. B. O'Eeilly 295 Charge of the Light Brigade A. Tennyson 296 EAUTY. .299 .299 .300 The Seasons, from "The Ee- Eevolt of Islam" P. B. Shelley 302 In the October Fields E. B. Wilson 304 October Days N. Hawthorne. ...304 A Song in October. W. J. Henderson.804 xu CONTENTS. Title. Author, Page. Echo and Silence Sir E. Brydges....305 And Now Comes Autumn M. Eytinge 306 Autumnal Sonnet "W. Allingham 306 Indian Summer Mrs. Nicholls 306 Indian Summer, from Mi- ami Woods W. D. Gallaglier.306 Autumn P. B. Shelley.. ....307 November K.H, Stoddard.. 309 Winter W.Cowper 309 The Snow-Shower W. C. Bryant 311 Lost in the Snow J. Thomson 311 The Snow-Storm J. C Whittier....312 Midwinter Anonymous 313 The Frost H. F. Gould 314 Spring T. Chatterton 314 Prelude to "The Loves of the Angels" T. Moore 314 Song: "When daffodils be- gin to peer" W. Shakspere 315 Spring C. A. Swinburne 315 The Symphony of Spring J. Thomson 316 Sonnet to Spring ....H. Howard 317 Trout Fishing J. Thomson 317 Song: "Woodmen, shep- herds, come away" J. Shirley 318 May, from "The Faery Queen" E. Spenser 318 To May L. Hunt 319 Song to May E.Darwin 320 June, from "The Vision of Sir Launfal" J.K.Lowell 320 Summer Longings D.F, McCarthy.. .322 A Dream of Summer J. G. Whittier....322 They Come! The Merry Sum- mer Months M. Motherwell.... 322 Song of the Summer Winds...G. Darley 324 "Carpe Diem" Anonymous 324 JuneDavs E. B. Wilson 325 Flowers.". J. Pvuskin 326 The Ivy H. Burton 327 Three Summer Studies J. B. Hope 327 In the. Summer Time J. Dennis.. 329 Ivy Anonj'mous 329 ThePhodora E. W.Emerson... 329 Summer Eain E.C. Stedman 331 July, from "The Earthly Paradise" W. Morris 331 The Violet W.W.Story 331 The Mountain Heartsease Bret Harte 332 Arbutus H.Jackson 333 Song of the Flowers L. Hunt 333 The Language of Flowers J. G. Percival 334 Sensitive "Plant P. B. Shellev 334 Lilies of the Field J. Keble...." 336 In the Woods G. Chaucer 336 Title. Author. Page. Song of the Kose Sappho 336 To an Early Primrose H. K. White 338 Song to the Violet J. R. Lowell 338 Almond Blossom E. Arnold 338 To Blossoms E. Herrick 339 The Holly Tree KSouthey 340 The Ivy Green C. Dickens 340 The Skylark J. Taylor 341 To Primroses Filled with Morning Dew E. Herrick 342 A Drop of Dew A. Marvell 342 Hymn to the Flowers H. Smith 344 To Daffodils E. Herrick 345 To a Mountain Daisy E. Burns 345 The Grove .". A. Cowley 345 Daffodils W. Wordsworth.347 The Wood Giant J. G. Whittier....347 To the Butterfly S. Rogers 348 The Rainbow W.Wordsworth..348 The Nightingale H.Coleridge 349 The Early Blue-Bird L. H. Sigourney..349 Song: "Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings". W. Shakspere 349 Song: Gayety of Nature M. R. Mitford 349 Birds in Summer M. Howitt 351 To a Nightingale W. Drummond..351 The Skylark J.Hogg 351 Ode to the Cuckoo J. Logan 352 Robert of Lincoln W. C. Bryant 352 To an Insect O.W.Holmes 353 Sonnet to the Mocking- Bird R. H. Wilde 354 The Chambered Nautilus O. W. Holmes. ..355 To a Waterfowl W. C. Bryant 355 From "The Planting of The Apple Tree" W.C.Bryant 356 The Summer Birds A. B. AVelby 357 To a Skvlark P. B. Shelley 359 The Bobolink T.Hill 360 Song of the River C. Kingsley 360 The Shaded Water W. G. Simms 362 A Wet Sheet and a Flow- ing Sea A. Cunningham.. 363 Storm at Night Lord Byron 363 Woodland Streams F. Brown 365 The Rain L. A.Boies 365 The Rain R. H. Stoddard. ..365 The Fountain J. R. Lowell 365 The Voice of Nature W. Cowper 366 The Wayside Spring T. B. Read S67 Apostrophe to the Ocean Lord Byron 368 Passing thelcebergs T. B. Read 369 Fairy Gold M. K. Davis 370 The Sea B. W. Procter...- 370 Fair Weather and Foul Anonymous - 371 Northern Lights G. H. McMastd' .^73 CONTENTS. Xiii Title. Author. Page. With Husky-Haughty Lips, O Sea W. Whitman 373 ^olian Harp W. Allingham...375 Windless Rain P.H. Havne 375 The Cloud P. B. Shelley 376 The Evening Cloud J. Wilson...". 376 Dawn N.P.Willis.: 377 Rain on the Roof. C. Kinney, 378 Morning Pleasures J.Thomson 378 Sunrise in thePorest W. Gilpin 379 Morning, from "Romeo and Juliet" W. Shakspere 381 Heaven Present J. R. Lowell 381 " To me the world's an open book." G.P.Morris 381 Morning G. Chaucer 381 Song of May Morning J. Milton 381 Sonnet: A Jersey Summer Day Anonymous 381 Morning, from " Summer "...J. Thomson 382 Morning, from "The Min- strel" J. Beattie 382 Morning, from "Pharonnida" W . Chamber- layne 383 Night, from "The Night Thoughts" E. Young 384 The Gray Nun V. B. Harrison.. .384 Bugle Song, from " The Prin- cess" ....A. Tennyson 385 When Day Meets Night C. W. Coleman..387 Twilight H. Merivale 387 Evening Calm T. Moore 387 Twilight Sir U. Price 388 Night, from " Queen Mab "...P. B. Shelley 388 Title. Author. Page. A Stormy Sunset by the Sea- side SirW. Scott 389 Our Inland Summer Night- fall R. Lowell 390 Sunset A. Smith 390 Sonnet on Night J. B. White 391 Night W. Habington....391 Moonrise E. Jones 391 Night at Sea L. Landon 393 Summer Evening A. B. Welby 393 Song of Nourmahal, from "Lalla Rookh" T. Moore 394 From "The Self-Enchanted "C.Lamb 394 Music, from "Merchant of Venice" W. Shakspere 394 Mare Rubrum O.W.Holmes 394 The Harp the Monarch Min- strel Swept Lord Byron 396 Drinking A. Cowley 396 Lowly Pleasures B. W. Procter ....396 Music W. Strode 396 Observation C. C. Colton 397 Distance M. W. Hamilton.397 Music R. W. Emerson...397 The Old Oaken Bucket S. Wood worth.... 398 The Bells of Shandon F. Mahony 399 Woodman, Spare That Tree.. .G. P. Morris 399 Common Things S. W. Duffield...400 An Orderfor aPicture A. Cary 400 Youth and Age S. T. Coleridge... 401 Secluded Beauty T. Moore 402 The Press B. Tavlor 402 Music o T. Carlyle 402 Song of Steam G. W. Cutter 404 ?i E^30N3 AJMD Afternoon C. G. Eastman.... 407 Little Brown Hands Anonymous 407 The Milking Maid C. G. Rossetti 408 Women and Children P. Tennyson 409 The Backwoodsman O. W. B. Peabody 409 From Little Red Riding Hood. .L. E. Landon 411 Auld Rob Morris R.Burns 411 The Husbandman J. Stirling 411 Wanted ! J. G. Holland 412 Men of Genius Generally Cheerful F.Jeffrey 413 The Vicar W. M. Praed 413 The Village Blacksmith H. W. Longfel- low 414 A Portrait E. B. Browning... 415 Jaffar L. Hunt 416 The Character of Falstaff. W. Hazlett 418 The Old Minstrel Sir W. Scott 418 The Prairie Hunter... W. C. Bryant 419 ;pHARACTEf^3. The Plowman , O. W.Holmes ....420 " What figure more immova- bly august" ....J. R. Lowell 420 The Poor Parson G. Chaucer 422 Unseen Spirits N. P. Willis 422 The School-Mistress W. Shenstone 423 The Fop W. Shakspere 428 Una E. Spenser 430 Th'e Vicar of Wakefield J. Bos well 431 Departure of the Pilgrims G. Chaucer 432 Katherine's Defense W. Shakspere 433 Hotspur's Death W. Shakspere 433 Anne Hathaway W. Shakspere 433 Beethoven M. H. Krout 434 "The mossy marbles rest" O. W. Holmes. ...434 The Last Leaf O. W. Holmes... .435 To Margaret Hussey J. Skelton 436 Cleopatra W. Shakspere 437 Dickens in Camp B. Harte 437 xiv CONTENTS. 7H,ile, Author. Page. Emilie G. Chaucer. 439 A Poet's Creed V. Hugo 439 Song: from "Two Gentle- men of Verona" W. Shakspere 439 The Poet's Wife W. Wordsworth 440 Rondeau L. Hunt 440 To Thomas Moore Lord Byron 441 John Howard Payne W. H. Carleton...441 John Howard Payne J. G. Saxe 441 Philip, My King D. M. Craik 442 "Philip, My King" M. J. Preston 443 Burns F. Halleck 443 Robert Burns J. Montgomery ...444 Cowper's Grave E. B. Browning. ..444 At the Grave of Burns W. Wordsworth 445 At the Grave of Keats C. P. Cranch 447 On the death of Joseph Rod- man Drake P. Halleck 447 Elizabeth W. Shakspere 449 Title. Author. Page. On Queen Elizabeth Sir P. Sidney 449 Character of Queen Elizabeth..D. Hume 449 Character of Mary Queen of Scots W. Robertson ....450 The Father of History T. B. Macaulay. .451 To His Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia Sir H. Wotton....452 To the Duchess of Sutherland C.E. S. Norton ...453 Milton, Dante, and -^s- chylus T. B. Macaulay... 454 Zimri J. Dry den 455 Antony's Oration W. Shakspere 457 Antony to Ciesar's Body W. Shakspere.. ..458 William Walker J. Miller 458 Charles XII S. Johnson 459 Napoleon at St. Helena T. Carlyle 460 Marco Griffoni S. Rogers 460 Burial of Lincoln R. H. Stoddard... 461 Dirge for a Soldier G. H. Boker 462 pLACEg. A Scene Recalled M. Akenside 465 Home J. Montgomery... 465 Verses on the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learn- ing in America G. Berkeley 466 Home, Sweet Home J. H. Payne 466 Sweet Home Anonymous 467 The Battlefield W. C. Bryant 467 The Acadian Farmhouse H. W. Longfel- low 468 Niagara J. G. C. Brainard.468 Noonday Rest H. D. Thoreau....470 The Battlefield C. Dickens 470 Mountain Neighbors L. Larcom 471 The Buccaneer's Island R. H. Dana 471 The Prairies W. C. Bryant 472 New Amsterdam W. Irving 473 The Strength of the Hills L. C. Moulton....475 America to Great Britain W. Allston 477 South American Scenery W. L. Bowles 477 The Coral Grove J. G. Percival 477 The Forest W.D.Gallagher. .478 An English Mansion J. G. Lockhart...479 Primeval Nature R. Pollok .480 Song of the Brook A. Tennyson 481 A Summer Sabbath Walk J. Grahame 481 Sweet Swan of Avon O. W. Holmes... .482 The Homes of England F. D. Hemans 484 Sonnet : " Worthy the patri- ot's thought and poet's lyre" H. T. Tuckerman 485 The Desert'ed Village O. Goldsmith 486 Autumn in the Highlands: R. Buchanan 492 A Swedish Country Church H. W. Longfel- low 493 A Forest Walk A. B. Street 494 Old England A. C. Coxe 495 Nutting W. Words worth.. 496 A Forest Hymn W. C. Bryant 497 The Al ham bra by Moon- light W.Irving 499 Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College T.Gray 501 Sonnet; "Earth has not any- thing to show more fair".. ..W.Wordsworth, .503 The Thames S. J. Denham 503 Lines: "Five years have passed : five summers with the length " W. Wordsworth. .503 The Burning of Chicago.. B. F. Taylor 505 The Traveler O. Goldsmith 507 Sonnet: "The world is too much with us" W. Words worth.. 508 A Chamber Scene B. W. Procter.... 508 Rome J.Miller 509 Ruins on the Rhine G. Eliot 509 At Sorrento A. Webster 510 The Forsaken Farm-house J. G. Whittier....510 The Alps Lord Byron 511 Solitude Lord Byron 511 Venice Lord Byron 513 From the Castle of Indolence. J. Thompson 513 On a Library A. C. Botta 515 Modern Greece. Lord Byron 515 Italy C. Dickens 516 Phoebe Pyncheon's Chamber. .N. Hawthorne 517 The Hollow Down by the Flare C. Dickens 519 The Haunted House T. Hood 520 To a Library G. Crabbe., 522 Description of Arcadia Sir P. Sidney 522 CONTENTS. XV Title. Author, Page, Proem J. G. Whittier....525 " The sunrise never failed us yet" C. Thaxter 525 Pain in Pleasure E. B. Browning.. .526 Nothing Lost T. Carlyle 527 " But heard are the voices "....T. Carlyle 527 The Arrow and the Song H. W. Longfel- low 527 Nature and Art H. W. Longfel- low 527 Ode on a Grecian Urn John Keats 528 Echoes Anonymous 528 Light F. W. Bourdil- lon 529 Appreciation T. B. Aldrich 529 Mercy W. Shakspere 530 Keputation W. Shakspere 530 Upon the Beach H. D. Thoreau...530 Imagination W. Shakspere 530 A Defence of Enthusiasm H. T. Tucker- man 531 A Noble Life P. J. Bailey 532 Wisdom Unapplied E. B. Browning... 532 Memory S. Kogers 533 Memory W. S. Landor 533 Power and Genius Lord Lytton 533 Culture M.Arnold 534 Perfection W. Shakspere 534 l^JEfLECTiOJN. L'Al! egro .J. Milton 535 II Penseroso J. Milton 537 Truth J.Milton 540 Knowledge and Power T. De Quincey.,..541 Mirth J. C. Hare 541 Valor and Virtue C. Maekay 541 Intellectual Beauty A. Smith 541 "Thoughts" K. H. Stoddard.... 542 Different Minds K. W. Emerson...542 Gnosis C. P.jCranch 543 The Happy Life Sir H. Wotton...543 Memories J. G. Whittier....545 The Heritage J.Thomson 545 Fame .^ J. Milton 547 From "The Masque of Comus" J. Milton 547 Beauty John Keats 548 Hope T.Campbell 548 OfObscm% A. Cowley 549 For Praise E. Young 550 Advice to Poets A. Pope 550 A Contented Mind J. Sylvester 551 Procrastination E. Young 551 Perception of Poetry G. Eliot 551 A Taste for Beading Sir J. Herscbel...552 From an Epistle to the Countess of Cumberland.... S. Daniel ...552 Against Keadiness to Take Offence 0. Feltham 553 Title. Author. Page. Continue not in Anger J. Lyly 553 Plagiarism H. Heine 553 The Mind O'erthrown W. Shakspere 555 My Mind to me a Kingdom is W. Bvrd 555 Books O. W\ Holmes. ...555 The Lost Elixir A. Dobson 557 The Songs That Are Not Sung J. B. O'Reilly 557 " For in this mortal frame".. ..S. T. Coleridge ...557 The Poet's Mourners Sir W. Scott 559 Vanitas Vanitatum T. Carew 559 The Way to Sing H. Jackson 559 Characteristics of Modern Critics J. Swift 560 Desire of Knowledge J. Boswell 560 Letter-Writing A. Trollope 560 The Boundary C. Perry 561 A Bird's Song Anonymous 561 The Song He Never Wrote. ..H. Jackson 562 Studies Sir F. Bacon 562 Books C.Lamb 563 What Might be Done C. Maekay 564 Oh! Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud W. Knox 565 The Song and the Singer T. Carlyle 566 On the Picture of "A^ Child Tired of Play." N. P. Willis 566 Cato's Soliloquy on the Im- mortality of the Soul J. Addison 567 American English W. D. Howells ...568 Aphorisms and Compari- sons J. Swift 568 Gold T. Hood 569 The Reward J. G. Whittier....569 Spes est Vates J. G. Saxe 570 Fire and Strength M. Arnold 570 The Question Illustrated by Nature J. G. Holland 571 Each and All R. W. Emerson. ..572 The Soul's Errand Sir W. Raleigh....573 The Hereafter A.Pope 574 Little at First, but Great at Last C. Maekay 574 Sweetness and Light M. Arnold 575 Somebody Anonymous 576 Every Day Anonymous 576 Who Bides His Time J. W. Riley 576 " Who can judge a man from Manners" Anonymous 577 Simplicity .J. Ruskin 577 Education J.Addison 577 The Interpreters C. A. Swinburne 578 This Life is What We Make It Anonymous 578 Education D.Webster 579 Sometime G-. D. Prentice.... 579 xn CONTENTS. Title. Author. Page. Unrealit}' W. Shakspere 579 A Fool W. Shakspere.. ..579 Scandal Anonymous 580 Don't Take It to Heart Anonymous 580 Polonius to Laertes W. Shakspere 580 Suggestion M. Browne 580 Cheerfulness W. Dunbar 581 Test of Friendship J. G. Saxe 581 Tenterden Steeple and Good- win Sands H. Latimer 582 After the Midnight Cometh Morn A. Pike 583 On Good Breeding Lord Chesterfield 583 Behavior K. W. Emerson...585 Ode on the Intimations of Immortality W. 'Wordsworth..585 Intuitions., E. B. Browning ...590 Chorus C. A. Swinburne 590 The Poetry of Life F. Yon Schiller ..590 "The days of infancy are alia dream" R. Southey 592 Man E. Young 592 The Convict Ship T. K. Hervey 592 The Nabob S. Blamire 593 Youth R. Burns 593 Troubles of Childhood George Eliot 595 The Pleasures of Poverty C. Lamb 595 Misused Art J. Ruskin 596 Woman's Voice E. Arnold 597 The World a Stage W. Shakspere-.....597 Work T. Carlyle 599 Life B. W. Procter 599 There is No Rest J. N. Matthews ...599 Prosperity and Adversity Sir F. Bacon 600 Better Things G. McDonald 600 Retirement from the World... S. Johnson 601 There's a Silver Lining to Every Cloud E. Cook 601 Recreation T. Fuller 602 The Way of the World E. W. Wilcox.. ..603 Gifts E. Lazarus 603 The Neglected Pattern P. Cary 604 Affinitus C. R. Lathrop 604 Vanity Fair F. Locker 605 The Culprit Fay J. R.Drake 627 Ariel's Song W. Shakspere.... 634 The Passions W. Collins 634 The Progress of Poesy T.Gray 636 Songof the Fairies J. Lyly 637 From "The Humble Bee" R. W. Emerson...638 Alexander's Feast J. Dryden 639 A Vision J. G. Percival 642 The Fairies W. Allingham....642 The Fairies T. Hood 644 A Musical Instrument E. B. Browning. ..645 Title. Author, Tagp. High Days and Holidays H. P. Spofford...605 Solitude H. More 605 Apostrophe to Sleep W. Shakspero 606 Ode on Solitude A.Pope 606 Song ; *' Busy, curious, thirs- ty fly." W. Oldys 606 Sleep T. Dekker 607 An Eastern Apologue A. Dobson 607 The Shortness of Life ■ F. Quarles 607 Sic Vita H.King 608 Life A.L. Barbauld...608 Life R. H. Wilde 608 APsalmofLife H. W. Longfel- low 608 Fate BretHarte 609 Wisdom J. W. Von Goethe 609 Unity of Nature A. Pope 609 Hunian Life S. Rogers 610 Man's Mortality S. Waste! 610 From "Festus" P. J. Bailey 611 The Voiceless O. W.Holmes.... 611 Time W.Scott 611 Melancholy Beaumont & Fletch- er 611 Stanzas R. Southey 612 Beauty Fades W.Drummond...612 Old Age and Death E. Waller 612 The Seasons of Life T. Parker 618 Life W. Shakspere 613 No Concealment L. H. Sigourney..613 Middle Age Alexander Smith.614 Hamlet's Soliloquy W. Shakspere.. ...615 The Circle of Life"! G. Eliot 617 Death's Final Conquest J. Shirley 617 Elegv, Written in a Country Churchyard.. T.Gray 617 Why Thus Longing? Harriet Win8low.619 On a Skull Lord Byron 621 Thanatopsis W. C. Bryant 621 The Da3's That Are No More A.Tennyson 623 Excelsior H. W. Longfel- low 623 A Hundred Years to Come W. G. Brown 624 CY. From "The Blessed Damoz- el" D. G. Rossetti 645 The Fairy's Song W. Shakspere 646 The Visit of St. Nicholas C. C. Moore 647 Hymn to Diana. B. Jonson 647 TheEveofSt. Agnes J.Keats 649 The Bells E. A.Poe 654 The Raven E. A. Poe 654 "The Ancient Mariner" T.DeQuincey 659 The Ancient Mariner S. T. Coleridge... 660 Tam O'Shanter R. Burns 668 CONTENTS. xvii ^flT AND j4ujVlOR, 7H,Ue. Author. Page. Faithless Nelly Gray T. Hood 673 Eobin Hood and the CurtallAnonymous (16th Friar century) 674 Wit the Flavour of the Mind S. Smith 676 A Parental Ode to My Son.... T. Hood 677 Genealogy of Humour J. Addison 678 A Necessity Owen Meredith... 678 Mv Daughter G. W. Cable 678 The Land of Thus-and-So J.W.Riley 679 The Fault of the Puppy M. Lewis ...679 Pristine Proverbs Prepared for Precocious Pupils Anonymous 679 "Birds of a feather flock to- gether" R. Southey 680 Morning Meditations T. Hood 680 Lines : " Frostie age, frostie age!" W. Irving 680 Lines: "Thus Adam looked when from the garden driven" E.Young 681 Belinda A. Pope 681 Belinda's Toilet A.Pope 681 The Courtin' J. R. Lowell 682 Ballade of a Girl of Erudi- tion- A. Lang 683 The Tender Heart H. G. Cone 683 My Aunt O.W.Holmes 683 The Belle of the Bali-Room... W. M. Praed 684 A Musical Box W. W. Story 685 Sancho Panza's Decisions M. de Cervantes.. 686 Nobody Anonymous 689 Fishing Anonymous 689 The Devil Anonvmous 689 Title. Author. Page. Sorrows of Werther W.M.Thackeray 690 A Tired Woman's Epitaph... J. Payne 690 Address to an Egyptian Mummy H. Smith 692 Answer of the Mummy Anonymous 693 Thievery W. Shakspere 694 Doubles T. Hood 694 He Never Knowed Anonymous 696 The Birth of Green Erin Anonymous 696 Deafness T. Hood 697 The Chinese Language G. W. Cooke 697 Katharine and Petruchio W. Shakspere 697 The New Church Organ W. Carleton 699 The Learning of Hudibras S. Butler 700 The Jackdaw of Rheims R. H. Barham 701 Old Grimes is Dead A. G. Greene 704 The Victim of Frauds B. Harte 704 The Paradise of Progress A. Lang 706 The One Gray Hair W. S. Landor 706 The Pilgrims and the Peas ....J. Wolcot 706 Pm Growing Old J. G. Saxe 707 What Mr. Robinson Thinks... J. R. Lowell 708 The Sea Anonymous 709 Plain Language from Truth- ful James B. Harte.. 710 The Cure's Progress A. Dobson 710 The Birth of St. Patrick S. Lover 711 A Literary Curiosity 712 Index of First Lines 713 Author's Index 721 Wild-Flowers M, K. Davis Fly Leaf Thought-Flowers M. K. Davis.. .Cover Lining Title. Artist Engrave?'. Page. Nature and Song Cover lining Nature and Books H. G. Glindoni Fly leaf Vignette Richardson Fly leaf Presentation Fly leaf Statue of "Poetry" (Grand Opera House, Paris) Fly leaf Portrait Henry W. Longfellow Frontispiece Group of Authors Title page Vignette Alfred Fredericks A. Bobbett Copyright Head Piece, "Preface" v Tail Piece, "Preface" Miss Ashley Shayler vi Head Piece, " Contents" vii Tail Piece, "Contents " F. M. Wilson Cassell xvii Head Piece, "Illustrations" E. Wagner xviii Tail Piece, "Illustrations" Hooper Cassell xxiii Head Piece, "Portraits" Hatherell Cassell xxiv Tail Piece, "Portraits" J. F. Cropsey, N. A Bobbett & Hooper xxv Head Piece, "Autographs" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper xxvi Joy a]md ^ori^ow. "Good news or evil, sunshine or shadow " Charles Gregory M. Klinkicht 28 " Sunlight and shade; rich gold that dullsto grey" 29 "Down the dimpled greensward dancing" Fitz-August Kaulbach 32 " And her feet she had been dipping" M. L. Gow O. L. Lacour 34 "But wot you what? the youth was going" H. M. Paget J. Swain ,„»,.37 "Maiden, with the meek brown eyes " W. Hatherell Cassell 42 " And the dream I spun was so lengthy " H. W. Cutte oo„o,o45 "Her book of the favorite poet unheeded at her side" B. Vautier »o„.„o„.„.47 " They gi'ed him niy hand, but my heart was at the sea" " F. Dadd J. Swain, 49 "I, nearer to the waj'side'inn " F. O. C. Parley, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 52 "Break, break, break" A. Barraud ....Cassell 56 " Blessings on thee, little man" 58 "Sleep on, baby on the floor" W. J. Hennessy, N. A. .. Bobbett & Hooper 59 "I've said my 'seven times' over and over" E. J.Whitney Hayes 61 "Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover" Childe Hassam Cowee 63 " O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daugh- ters" 64 Rip's PvETURN TO ms Home John S. Davis 0. Maurand 68 Rip's Reception by the Villagers » ,.„„,„„, ;...,.. c»„„,....,-«70 ILLUSTRATIONS. xix Title. Artist. Engraver. Page. "The horrible conceit of death and night" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 74 "A woman sat in unwomanly rags" Hoppin Anthony 76 "A maiden there lived whom you may know" D.Huntington,Pres.N. A. Bobbett & Hooper 81 The Blind Milton Dictating " Paradise Lost " TO HIS Daughters Michael Munkacsy F. Meaulle 84 "She moved where Lindis wandereth " 86 "'The old sea wall,' he cried, « is downe' " W. Small J. Swain 89 "The western wind was wild and dank with foam"...Macdonough Anthony 93 " To her grave beside the sea" Macdonough Cox 93 "Three corpses lay out on the shining sands" T. Hovenden Kilburn 96 "Not there! where, then, is he?" Dalziel 100 " Softly woo away her breath" Lisbeth B. Humphrey. . .Gr. Morisetti 103 " Sweet spring, thou turns't with all thy goodly train" James Hart, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 105 "One more unfortunate, weary of breath" Eytinge Anthony 108 "Started from bed and struck herself a light" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 118 "From sheds new-roof d with Carara." Fenn , Harley 119 Tailpiece A. Zick 120 7hE ^ffECTIONg. "Behind us swept past reed and willow" Alice Havers 122 Head Piece 123 "Oh, mother's love is glorifying!" W. J. Hennessy, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 126 "Love thy mother, little one!" Eugene Klimsch G. Hever & Kirmk 128 "Best, rest, on mother's breast!" Macdonough Langridge 130 "Tones that never thence depart" W. H. Gore Cassell 132 " For I know that the angels are whispering to thee" Carl Marr 134 " She laughs; * Why look you so slyly at me ? ' " H. M. Paget J, Swain 138 " I read it, my letter, my letter, as I loitered by the sea" T.&E. Taylor 141 "No charm so dear as home and friends around us" ChildeHassam Latham 143 "What is the greatest bliss?" : N. Waterman Bobbett & Hooper 145 "In short, sir, 'the belle of the season'" J. Ballavoine 147 "Mark how o'er ocean's breast" J. F, Kensett, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 149 " The heavens were bright, and all the earth was fair" Davison Knowles 152 "The careless days of peace and pleasure" F. Dicksee M. Klinkicht 155 "By hood and tippet sheltered sweet" Miss Hallock W. J. Linton 175 "In hosts the lilies, white and large" W. Hatherell Cassell 160 " Nestle closely, little hand" M.L. Gow 162 "When stars are in the quiet skies" 164 "Drink to me only with thine eyes" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 169 "Her father loved me; oft invited me" Charles Becker O. Koth 170 "Bright, O bright Fedalma!" J. Salles M. Weber 174 " Gin a body kiss a body " 183 "With modest eyes downcast" A. F. Bellows, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 186 " Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more" 188 "Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air !" M'me Alex. Enault ...Schoelch 191 "And she fled to the forest to hear a love tale". Alfred Fredericks Bobbett &Hooper 193 "Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds " E. Gignoux, N. A Bobbett &Hooper 195 " She leant against the armed man" Fernand H. Lungren Latham 196 "I saw two clouds at morning" C. C. Griswold W. J. Linton 199 "Now we maun totter down, John"..... F. Dadd , J. Swain., ,.,... 200 XX LIST OF ILLUSTRATION'S. Title. Artist Engraver. Page. "There's naething binds my puir auld heart" H. M. Paget J. Swain 201 Tail Piece A. Zick Bong & Honemann ....202 l^Ej.iqiojM. " But peaceful was the night wherein the Prince of Light"..... R. Bong A. Zick 204 Head Piece E. Wagner 205 " When such music sweet" -..R. Bong A. Zick -..206 " But see, the Virgin blest" 208 "From under the boughs in the snow-clad wood"H. Weir W. Meason 212 "The toil-worn cotter frae his labor goes" ...William Hart, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 216 "Th* expectant wee things, toddlin, stacher through " Chapman Filmer 217 " The priest-like father reads the sacred page" Chapman Filmer 219 "The youngling cottagers retire to rest" Chapman Filmer 220 " But none of the ransomed ever knew" Robert Leins ..222 " Xow came still evening on, and twilight gray " C. Parsons Bobbett & Hooper 227 "Its waves are kneeling on the strand" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 228 " Far in a wild, unknown to public view" Y. Nehlig, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 239 " When the grave household round his hall repair" Gr. G. Kilburne W. I. Mossos 241 " Soon as the evening shades prevail" J. McEntee, N. A... Bobbett & Hooper 248 " Hark, how the birds do sing" 253 Tail Piece H. Catenacci 254 p/ggIOJN| A^^ID y\.CTIOJM. "With his white hair unbonneted the stout old sheriff comes" E. Crofts, A. R. A. ^ 256 Head Piece E. Crofts, A. R. A. 257 " We buried him darkly at dead of night" Charles Gregory A. Bellenger 263 "Robed in the sable garb of woe" V. Nehlig, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 268 "'Make way for liberty ! ' he cried" Y. Nehlig, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 276 "Press where you see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war " Rochling G. Hever & Kirmk 282 "At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun" Henry Sandham Kilburn 287 " And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell" 290 " The lists are oped, the spacious area clear'd" S. Colman, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 292 " These heavy walls to me had grown a hermitage" 294 Tailpiece 296 ^ZlAUTY. "Beauty shall glide along, circled by song" Tidmarsh 298 " Down in yon summer vale, where the rill flows" —Head Piece E.Wagner 299 " First, lusty Spring all dight in leaves and flowers " Wilham Hart, K A Bobbett & Hooper 301 "Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight" William Hart, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 301 "Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad" William Hart, K A Bobbett & Hooper 301 " Lastly came Winter clothed all in frize" William Hart, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 302 " Yet what her lavish hand hath spilled remains". ..E. Giacomelli. •• '• 303 " In eddying course when leaves began to fly" Childe Hassam A. Wood 305 " The mild N"ov('mber comes at last" ". J. R. Brevoort, K. A Bobbett & Hooper 309 "But the hurrying host that flew between" 310 " From hill to dale, still more and more astray" - 312 " Cottage and field alike concealed " 313 "When daffodils begin to peer" 315 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xxi 'ntle. Artist. Engraver, Page. " The buck in brake his winter coat he flings" James Hart, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 317 "There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly" 318 "Month of little hands with daisies" Butterworth & Heath.. 319 "Out of the city, far away " M.L. Gow Cassell 321 " They come ! the gladsome months that bring thick leafiness to bowers" Fernand H. Lungren Cowee 323 '^Kow to the cooling shades the cows retreat '^ 325 Flowers Mrs. Staples Cassell 326 " The panting cattle in the river stand" M. Waterman Bobbett & Hooper 328 " And the gentle summer rain" Hollidge 330 " Innocence shines in the lily's bell" J. A. Hows Bobbett & Hooper 334 " For the rose, ho ! the rose is the eye of the flow- ers" 337 Blossoms 339 " Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young" A. D. Shattuck, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 342 " See how the orient dew" Miss Mary A. Lathburg...Closson 343 Daffodils 346 " And where the flowers of Paradise unfold" 348 " 'Come up, come up,' they seem to say" 350 "Robert of Lincoln is telling his name" 353 "But all night long" J. A. Hows,K A Bobbett & Hooper 354 " There is a Power whose care" C. Parsons Bobbett & Hooper 355 " Sweet warblers of the sunny hours" Andrew 357 "Higher still aud higher" A. F. Elwes Moss 358 " Clear and cool, clear and cool" 361 " Your murmurs bring the pleasant breath" C. Maurand 364 " Glorious fountain ! Let my heart be" J. D. Smillie ...Bobbett & Hooper 366 " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!" M. F. H. DeHaas Bobbett & Hooper 368 " Up signal then, and let us hail" C. T. Dix Bobbett & Hooper 369 "Lol Night's barbaric Khans" DeHaas 372 " Thy troops of white-maned racers racing to the goal" C.Roberts 374 "Throw up the window! 'Tis a morn for life" J. D. Smillie Bobbett & Hooper ....,377 Romeo and Juliet , Hermann Kaulbach P. Krey 380 " The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews"....G. H. Smillie Bobbett &Hooper 382 "But who the melodies of morn can tell!" G. H. Smillie Bobbett & Hooper 383 " The morning hath not lost her virgin blush" A. F. Bellows, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 384 "The splendor falls on castle walls" Fenn 385 " A woman's wistful eyes look out across the hills "..G. Trench 386 Night ". S. Colman, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 389 "The magic moon is breaking" H. Brinkraann 392 " How dear to this heart are the scenes of my child- hood " A. D. Shattuck K A Bobbett & Hooper 398 Tail Piece , ^ 404 pEI^30N3 yVJND j!^HARACTER3. QueEk Catherine's Defense 406 Head Piece W. Small 407 " She milked into a wooden pail" 408 "Red Riding Hood, the darling" P. Meyerheim 410 " Under a spreading chestnut tree" F. O. C. Darley, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 415 " With what free growth the elm and plane" A. Bierstadt, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 419 "Lo! on he comes, behind his smoking team" J. D. Smillie Bobbett & Hooper. . ..421 " A matron old, whom we Schoolmistress name" W. J. Hennessy, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 425 "And, sad to see her sorrowful constniint" , .Fernand H. Lungren Cowee 431 2 xxii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Title. Artist. Engrave. Page. "Wei nine and twenty in a compagnie" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 432 "The pavement stones resound" W. J. Hennessy, N. A Anthony 436 Cleopatra in Her Barge Hans Makart K. Bong 436 " Jennie kissed me when we met" Hoppin Bobbett & Hooper 440 "Look at me with thy hirge brown eyes" E. J. Whitney Hayes 442 "You meaner beauties of the night" S. Colman,N. A .-.Bobbett & Hooper 452 Antony's Oration over Cesar's Dead Body" G. E. V. Berlepsch 456 Tail Piece Alfred Fredericks Bobbett «& Hooper 462 ?: XACEg. Venice, the Queen of the Adriatic 464 " O, ye dales of Tyne!" Head Piece S. Colman, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 465 Niagara F. E. Church, K A Bobbett & Hooper 469 "Breezes of the South, have ye fanned" W. Whittredge, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 472 " But calm in the distance the great hills rose" 476 "Brown-pillared groves and green-arched alleys" S. K. Gifford, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 478 "Pleasant were many scenes" J. A. Hows Bobbett & Hooper 480 "The stately homes of England" 484 "For to the hills has Freedom ever clung" R. S. Gifford, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 485 " And all the village train, from labor free" W. Whittredge, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 487 " I see the rabbit upward bound" 494 " Among the woods and o'er the pathless rocks" A. B. Durand, N. A ....Bobbett & Hooper 496 " Father, thy hand hath reared these venerable col- umns" Bullen Bullen 498 The ALHAiiBRA 500 Eton College, from the River 502 "Chicago vanished in a cloud" E. Whymper E. Whymper 506 " I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs" E. Whymper E. Whj^mper 512 " One lonely ray that glanced upon a bed" Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 521 \' EfLE CTIOJM. Morning Meditations C. Karger 624 " Upon the sadness of the sea" — Head Piece J. A. Suydam, N. A Bobbett & Hooper 525 " Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget" 526 " The light of the bright world dies" 529 "Zephyr, with Aurora playing" 535 " Where throngs of knights and barons bold" 536 "Come pensive nun, devout and pure" ..Eastman Johnson, N. A. ..Bobbett & Hooper 537 "Where the rude ax with heaved stroke" 538 " There let the pealing organ blow" 539 " A beautiful and happy girl" 544 " Companionship with Books 552 "For I did not bring home the river and sky" A. Barraud O. L. Lacour 572 Joyous Youth H. P. Gray, V. P. N. A.. .Bobbett & Hooper 581 "The earth and every common sight" W. St. John Harper Schoelch 586 " And by the vision splendid" Childe Hassam Cowee ...588 The Troubles of Childhood Ferdinand Padien Walla 594 " There is a silver lining to every cloud " 602 " A weaver sat one day at his loom" W. T. Smedlej^ Cowee 604 End-Piece Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hoooer 624 "pAJMCY. Whisperings of Fancy 626 " It was a strange and lovely sight" — Head-Piece... Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 627 Ferdinand and Ariel Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 634 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XXlll Page. ...'640 ...641 ...643 Title. Artist. Engraver. "'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won" Y. Nehlig, N. A Bobbett & Hooper, "At last divine Cecilia came" Rafael Santi d'Urbino , "They stole little Bridget" Bellew Cox "Oh, these be Fancy's revelers by .night! " Mrs. Jessie Curtis Shep- herd 644 "I do wander everywhere"... 646 "Full on the casement shone the wintry moon" Fernand H. Lungren Cowee 561 "On the bat's back I do fly" 667 Tail Piece Alfred Fredericks Bobbett & Hooper 670 ¥/^IT y\ND j4uM0P^, " Robin Hood took the friar on his back" 672 "The army surgeon made him limbs" — ^Head- Piece...." W. Ralston W. I. Mossos 673 " And when she saw his wooden legs" , W. Ralston W. I. Mossos 674 "I know her, the thing of laces, and silk" Miss Ledyard MacDonald 686 Katharine an^d Petrtjchio A. von Grundherr Kuesing 698 " They turn up the rugs — they examine the mugs" W. Ralston W. I. Mossos 702 "Sothey canonized him by the name of Jim Crow" W. Ralston W. I. Mossos 704 Tail Piece 712 Head Piece, "Index of First Lines" T.Griffiths Cassell 713 Tail Piece, "Index of First Lines" Miss Slader Cassell 720 Head Piece, "Authors' Index" .'721 Tail Piece, "Author's Index" J. Staples 744 Wild-Flowters Fly Leaf Thought-Flowers Coyer Lining Anne Hathaway's Cottage. {See Page 4SS.) Addison, Joseph 567 Aldrich, Thomas Bailey 31 Arnold, Matthew 575 Bacon, Sir Francis 600 Bailey, Philip James 532 Beaumont, Francis o 39 Browning, Elizabeth Barkett 415 Browning, Eobert 136 Bryant, "William Cullen 622 BuLWER, Edward, Lord Lytton 178 Burns, Kobert 224 Byron, Lord George Gordon" 620 Cable, George W 678 Campbell, Thomas 190 Carleton, Will H 700 Carlyle, Thomas 598 Cary, Alice 401 Gary, Phcebe 231 Chaucer, Geoffrey. 438 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 198 CowPER, William 367 De Quincey, Thomas 659 Dickens, Charles 341 Dobson, Austin 711 Drummond, William 612 Dryden, John ...214 Eliot, George, (Marian Evans Cross) 616 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 584 Fletcher, John 39 Gallagher, William D 307 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. 609 Goldsmith, Oliver 491 Gray, Thomas 637 Halleck, Fitz-Greene 447 Harte, (Francis) Bret 705 Hawthorne, Kathaniel 518 Hayne, Paul Hamilton 375 Heber, Eeginald ; 215 Hemans, Felicia Dorothea 485 Herbert, George 252 Hogg, James 252 Holland, Josiah Gilbert 571 Holmes, Oliyeb Wendei-l 395 Hood, Thomas 695 Howe, Julia Ward 275 HowELLs, William Dean 151 Hugo, Victor 246 Hunt, Leigh 234 Ingelow, Jean 65 Irving, Washington 474 Jackson, Helen 562 Johnson, Samuel 459 JoNSON, Ben 648 Keats, John 79 Kingsley, Charles 362 Lamb, Charles 564 Landor, Walter Savage 706 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. Frontis'piece. Lowell, James Russell 709 Lytton, Edward Robert Blt.wer-Lytton, Earl (Owen Meredith) 156 Macaulay, Thomas Babington, Lord 284 Marston, Philip Bourke 443 Massey, Gerald 110 Miller, Joaquin 167 Milton, John 546 Montgomery, Jatvies 444 Moore, Thomas 403 More, Hannah 606 Morris, George P 400 Motherwell, William 166 Payne, John Hoavard 466 Percival, James Gates 642 PoE, Edgar Allan ...657 Pope, Alexander 232 pRAED, Winthrop Mackworth 685 Prentice, George Dent^ison 99 Procter, Bryan Waller ("Barry Corn- wall") 259 Raleigh, Sir Walter 189 Read, Thomas Buchanan 367 Rogers, Samuel 461 RusKiN, John 114 Ryan, Abram J 250 Saxe, John Godfrey 708 Schiller, Johann Frl&prich von 591 POETEAITS. XXV Scott, Sir "Walter ShAKSPERE, WlLLIAil Shelley, Percy Bysshe , Sheridan, Kichard Brinsley Sidney, Sir Philip SiGOURNEY, LyDIA HiINTLEY Smith, Alexander Smith, Sydney SouTHEY, Robert Spenser, Edmund Stoddard, Richard Henry Suckling, Sir John Swinburne, Charles Algernon., 558 Taylor, Bayard 402 .554 Tennyson, Lord Alfred 54 .308 Thackeray, William Makepeace 691 .150 Thomson, James 312 .522 Thoreau, Henry D 530 .614 TucKERMAN, Henry Theodore 55 .615 Welby, Amelia B 393 .677 "White, Henry Kirke 251 .177 Whittier, John Greenleaf 210 .429 Willis, Nathaniel Parker 124 .153 WofTER, William 116 .173 Wordsworth, William 446 .578 Young, Edward.. 681 Browning, Elizabeth Bahrett Browning, Robert Bryant, William Cullen Burns, Robert Carleton, Will H Carlyle, Thomas Coleridge, Samttel Taylor Emerson, Ralph Waldo Gray, Thomas Halleck, Fitz-Greene Harte, (Francis) Bret Hawthorne, Nathaniel Holland, Josiah Gilbert (" Timothy Titcomb") Holmes, Oliver Wendell Hood, Thomas Hunt, Leigh Ingelow, Jean Keats, John KiNGSLEY, Charles Lamb, Charles LOXGFELLOAY, HeNRY W Lowell, James Russell Miller, Joaquin Milton, John Montgomery, James Moore, Thomas Payne, John Howard PoE, Edgar Allan Procter, Bryan Waller (Barry Cornwall) Saxe, John Godfrey Scott, Sir Walter Shelley, Percy Bysshe Smith, S. F Southey, Robert Stedman, Edmund Clarence Stoddard, Richard Henry Taylor, Bayard Tennyson, Alfred Thackeray, William Makepeace Whittier, John Greenleaf Willis, Nathauiel Parker , From "The Sword of Castruccio Castrucani "...273 From " How We Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." 288 From "The Planting of the Apple Tree" 356 " Bruce's Address " 260 From "Rifts in the Cloud" 238 From "Past and Present" (translated from Goethe) 527 From " Psyche" 557 From "The Humble Bee" 638 From the "Elegy in a Country Churchyard".. ..619 From "On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake" 448 "The Mountain Heartsease" 232 "I have been a happy man" 112 "Wanted!" 412 From "The Last Leaf". 434 From "The Song of the Shirt" 77 From " Abou Ben Adhem" 235 From "Supper at the Mill" 181 "The wonders of all-ruling Providence" 213 From "The sands of Dee" 92 From "The Self-Enchanted" 394 From "The Day is Done" 148 "What figure more immovably august" 420 "Rome" 509 From " The Masque of Comus" 547 "Hail the High, the Holy One " 245 "Filled with balm the gale sighs on" 184 "Home, Sweet Home!" 467 "Alone" 40 From "The Sea" 371 ''Spes est Vates" 570 From "Marmion" 279 From the Dedication to " The Revolt of Islam " 140 From "America" 266 "Birds of a feather flock together " 680 .From " The Doorstep " 152 " Thoughts " 548 From " The Song of the Camp " 159 From "The Princess" 36 ," Sorrows of Werther" 690 From "Miriam" 229 From "Unseen Spirits".; 423 Good news or evil, sunshine or shadow — What is the message the postman bore?" Sunlight and Shade; rich gold that dulls to grey ; So runs the tale of life from day to day.' poEMp Of Joy and ^oi^f^ow. GOOD MEWS, OB BAD? tOOD news or evil, sunshine or shadow — What is the message the postman bore, Meeting a lassie midway in the meadow, Bringing a letter from distant shore ? " Wounded to death !" — so ran the letter — "Wounded to death in the front of the fray!" Dying right nobly surely is better Than living to bask in life's sunniest ray ! " Wounded to death ! — Aye, almost to dying, But the great God gave back the life that seemed lost. And even now while the maiden was sighing. The far-stretching leagues of the ocean were crossed ; And just when the sky seemed most cloudy and dreary, And all was as dark as a dull autumn day. The soldier was back with his own little dearie, And the sunshine burst forth with a summer ray. George Weathekly. SUJ^LIGHT AJYD SHADE. ^UNLIGHT and Shade; rich gold that )^ dulls to grey ; The fairest summer morn, radiant with light, Succeeded by the gloomiest Winter night— So runs the tale of Life from day to day. And no man knows when, ranked in close ar- ray. The thick black clouds will hide the sun from sight. And darken all that has been glad and bright. And make Life for awhile a shadowed way. 'Mid Sun and Shadow, happiness and woe, The years roll on, each bringing its due share Of pure unruffled joy, and stormy care ; And yet, if men will only have it so. The dark days will be short, and every one Will have his long fair summer day of sun ! George Weatherly. 30 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. U.XDER MY WIJVDOW. fNDER my window, under my window, All in the midsummer weather. Three little girls, with fluttering curls. Flit to and fro together I There's Belle with her bonnet of satin sheen. And Maude with her mantle of silver-green. And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window. Leaning stealthily over. Merry and clear, the voice I hear Of each glad-hearted rover. Ah ! sly little Kate, she steals my roses. And Maude and Belle twine wreaths and posies, As merry as bees in clover. Under my window, under my window In the blue midsummer weather. Stealing slow, on a hushed tip-toe, I catch them all together ! Belle with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maude with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window. And off through the orchard closes ; While Maude she flouts and Belle she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies ; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss. And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss. And I give her all my roses. Thomas Westwood. LITTLE BELL. flPED the blackbird on the beechwood spray, " Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name ?" quoth he ; " What's your name ? Oh, stop, and straight unfold. Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold ?" " Little BeU," said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossing aside her gleaming golden locks ; " Bonny bird," quoth she, " Sing me your best song before I go." " Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he. And the blackbird piped ; you never heard Half so gay a song from any bird ; Full of quips and wiles, Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles. And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart freely o'er and o'er 'Neath the morning skies. In the little childish heart below. All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow. And shine forth in happy overflow, From the blue, bright eyes. Down the dell she tripped and through the glade ; Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade, And from out the tree Swung and leaped and frolicked, void of fear; While bold blackbird piped that all might hear; " Little BeU," piped he. Little BeU sat down amid the fern ; " Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return ; Bring me nuts," quoth she. Up away the frisky squirrel hies. Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes. And adown the tree Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, In the little lap dropped one by one ; Hark, how blackbird pipes to see such fun ! " Happy BeU ;" pipes he. Little BeU looked up and down the glade ; " Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid. Come and share with me :" Down came squirrel eager for his fare ; Down came bonny blackbird, I declare ; Little BeU gave each his honest share, Ah, the merry three I And the while these frolic playmates twain Piped and frisked from bough to bough again, 'Neath the morning skies. In the little childish heart below AU the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, And shine out in happy overflow From her blue, bright eyes. By her snow-white cot at close of day. Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray ; Very calm and clear Rose the praying voice to where, unseen, In blue heaven, an angel shape serene Paused awhile to hear. " What good child is this," the angel said, POEMS OF JOY AKD SORROW. 31 " That with happy heart beside her bed Prays so lovingly ?" Low and soft, oh, very low and soft, Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft, " Bell, dear Bell," crooned he. " Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Murmured, '"God doth bless with angels' care; Child, thy bed shall be Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind, Shall w'atch around and leave good gifts be- hind, Little Bell, for thee !" Thomas West wood. And thus came dainty Babie Bell Into this world of ours. She came, and brought delicious May : The swallows built beneath the eaves ; Like sunlight in and out the leaves. The robins went, the livelong day. The lily swung its noiseless bell. And o'er the porch the trembling vine Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. How sweetly, softly, twilight fell ! Oh, earth was full of singing birds And opening Spring-tide flowers, When the dainty Babie Bell Came to this world of ours ! Thomas Bailey Aldrich. BABIE BELL'S COMIJYG. (From ''The Ballad of Babie BeU." ) T|JAVE you not heard the poets tell SL How came the dainty Babie Bell Into this world of ours ? The gates of heaven were left ajar ; With folded hands and dreamy eyes Wandering out of Paradise, She saw this planet, like a star, Hung in the glistening depths of even ; Its bridges running to and fro. O'er which the white-winged angels go. Bearing the holy dead to heaven : She touched a bridge of flowers, those feet So light, they did not bend the bells Of the celestial asphodels ; They fell like dew upon the flowers : Then all the air grew strangely sweet ; Thomas Bailey Aldrich. COMPAMIOJ^SHIP WITH CEILBREK. (From "Little Annie's Ramble" in "Twice-Told Tales.") WEET has been the charm of childhood on my spirit, throughout my ramble with little Annie ! Say not that it has been a waste of precious moments, an idle matter, a bab- ble of childish talk, and a reverie of childish imaginations about topics unworthy of a grown man's notice. Has it been merely this ? Not so ; not so. They are not truly wise who would afiirm it. As the pure breath of children revives the life of aged men, so is our moral nature revived by their free and simple thoughts, their native feeling, their airy mirth, for little cause or none, their grief, soon roused and soon allayed. Their influence on us is at least reciprocal with ours on them. When our infancy is almost forgotten, and our boyhood long departed, though it seems but as yesterday ; when life settles darkly down upon us, and w^e doubt whether to call ourselves young any more, then it is good to steal away from the society of bearded men, and even of gentler women, and spend an hour or two with children. After drinking from those fountains of still fresh existence, we shall return into the crowd, as I do now, to struggle onward and do our part in life, perhaps as fervently as ever, but, for a time, with a kinder and purer heart, and a spirit more lightly wise. All this by thy sweet magic, dear little Annie ! Nathaniel Hawthorne. 32 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. "Down the dimpled greensward dancing." THE GAMBOLS OF CHILDREN. ^^OWN the dimpled greensward dancing, 11/ Bursts a flaxen-headed bevy ; Bud-lipped boys and girls advancing, Love's irregular little levy. Rows of liquid eyes in laughter, How they glimmer, how they quiver I Sparkling one another after, Like bright ripples on a river. Tipsy band of rubious faces. Flushed with joy's ethereal spirit, Make your mocks and sly grimaces At Love's self and do not fear it. George Darley. POEMS OF JOY A:N^D SORROW. MOTHER J^ATURE. MOW like a tender mother, with loving thoughts beguiled, Fond Nature seems to lull to rest each faint and weary child ! Drawing the curtain tenderly, affectionate and mild. Hark to the gentle lullaby, that through the trees is creeping ! Those sleepy trees that nod their heads, ere the moon as yet comes peeping, Like a tender nurse, to see if all her little ones are sleeping. One little fluttering bird, like a child in a dream of pain, Has chirped and started up, then nestled down again. Oh, a child and a bird, as they sink to rest, are as like as any twain. Charlotte Yoitng. THE MERRY HEART. WOULD not from the wise require The lumber of their learned lore ; Nor would I from the rich desire A single counter of their store ; For I have ease and I have health. And I have spirits light as air, And more than wisdom, more than wealth, A merry heart that laughs at care. Like other mortals of my kind, I've struggled for Dame Fortune's favor ; And sometimes have been half inclined To rate her for her ill behavior ; But life was short ; I thought it folly To lose its moments in despair, So slipped aside from melancholy. With merry heart that laughed at care. So now, from idle wishes clear, I make the good I may not find ; Adown the stream I gently steer. And shift my sail with every wind ; And half by nature, half by reason. Can still, with pliant heart prepare The mind, attuned to every season, The merry heart that laughs at care. Yet, wrap me in your sweetest dream, Ye social feeling of the mind ; Give, sometimes give your sunny gleam, And let the rest good-humor find ; Yes, let me hail, and welcome give To every joy my lot may share. And pleased and pleasing let me live. With merry heart that laughs at care. Henry Hart Miliman. THE ROMAJVCE OF THE SWAJV'S JVEST. If ITTLE Ellie sits alone . JIM. 'Mid the beeches of a meadow By a stream-side on the grass. And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow On her shining hair and face. She has thrown her bonnet by. And her feet she has been dipping, In the shallow w^ater's flow. Now she holds them nakedly In her hands all sleek and dripping, While she rocketh to and fro. Little Ellie sits alone. And the smile she softly uses Fills the silence like a speech, While she thinks what shall be done, — And the sweetest pleasure chooses For her future w^ithin reach. Little Ellie in her smile Chooses — " I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds ! He shall love me without guile. And to him I will discover The swan's nest among the reeds. " And the steed shall be red-roan. And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath. And the lute he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble. As his sword strikes men to death. " And the steed it shall be shod, All in silver, housed in azure. And the mane shall swim the wind. And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure Till the shepherds look behind. 34 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. " But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in. When he gazes in my face, He will say — ' O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in, And I kneel here for thy grace !' " Then, fly, then he shall kneel low. With the red-roan steed anear bim. Which shall seem to under- stand, Till I answer — 'Rise and ero' I will utter, and dissemble — Light to-morrow with to-day ! " Then he'll ride among the hills. To the wide world past the river, There to put away all wrong ; To make straight distorted wills, m&'^d And lier feet she had been dipping In the shallow water's tlow." For the world must love and fear him Whom I gift with heart and hand. " Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble With a yes I must not say : Nathless maiden-brave, * Farewell,' And to empty the broad quiver Which the wicked bear along. " Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain, And kneel down beside my feet — * Lo, my master sends this gage, POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 35 Lady, for thy pity's counting ! What wilt thou exchange for it ?' "And the first time I will send A white rose-bud for a guerdon, — And the second time, a glove ; But the third time — I may bend From my pride, and answer — ' Pardon, If he comes to take my love.' " Then the young foot-page will run — Then my lover will ride faster. Till he kneeleth at my knee : ' I am a dulse's eldest son ! Thousand serfs do call me master, — But, O Love, I love but thee !' " He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover Through the crowds that praise his deeds ; And, when soul-tied by one troth, Unto him I will discover That swan's nest among the reeds." Little EUie, with her smile Kot yet ended, rose up gaily ; Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe. And went homeward, round a mile. Just to see, as she did daily. What more eggs were with the two. Pushing through the elm-tree Copse, Winding up the stream, ligiit-hearted, Where the osier pathway leads — Past the boughs she stoops — and stops. Lo, the wild swan had deserted — And a rat had gnawed the reeds. EUie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever, With his red-roan steed of steeds. Sooth, I know not! but I know She could never show him — never. That swan's nest among the reeds. Elizabeth Barkett Beowxixg. sojYxet to sleep. fARE-CHAEMER Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my anguish, and restore the light, With dark forgetting of my care, return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill-advised youth ; Jj^t waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, Without the torments of the night's untruth. Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, To model forth the passions of to-morrow ; Never let the rising sun prove you liars. To add more grief, to aggravate my sorrow. Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, And never wake to feel the day's disdain. Samuel Daniel. 'SOME MURMUR WHEJf THEIR SkY IS CLEAR." ^OME murmur when their sky is clear j^ And wholly bright to view. If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filled, If but one streak of light. One ray of God's good mercy gild The darkness of their night. In palaces are hearts that ask. In discontent and pride. Why life is such a dreary task. And aU good things denied ? And hearts in poorest huts admire How love has in their aid (Love that not ever seems to tire) Such rich provisions made. Richard Chevexix Trench. SOJY^^ET. T^? IFE, joy and splendor with the year awake, l@C The young Spring smiles on Winter pass- ed away ; The air is balmy with the coming May, A bridal music rings from bush and brake. All tilings the glory of the time partake ; I would be bright and joyous even as they. But tearful memory dims the golden day ; The light glares sickly, w^hile this heart must ache For eyes long closed, that fondly turned to mine. And voices dear forever dumb to me ; Yet, as the warm wind murmurs in the pine, SoiTOW grows mild and sufferance less sore ; I hear soft whispers from the unseen shore, With promise of eternal Spring to be. Anonymous, POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. FROM " THE PRIJfCESSr 44>^^ (^ ^^ ^Oi THE HOUSE OF CLAY. ^MHERE was a house — a house of clay P Wherein the inmate sang all day, Merry and poor. For Hope sat likewise heart to heart, Fond and kind — fond and kind, Vowing he never would depart — Till all at once he changed his mind — " Sweetheart, good-hy !" he slipped away, And shut the door. But Love came past, and looking in. With smiles that pierced like sunshine thin, Through wall, roof, floor. Stood in the midst of that poor room, Grand and fair — grand and fair, Making a glory out of gloom. Till at the window mocked old Care — Love sighed — " all lose and nothing win !" He shut the door. Then o'er the barred house of clay, Kind jasmine and clematis gay Grew evermore ; And bees hummed merrily outside Loud and strong — loud and strong, The inner silentness to hide, The steadfast silence all day long — Till evening touched with finger gray The close-shut door. Most like the next that passes by. Will be the angel whose calm eye Marks rich, marks poor ; Who pausing not at any gate. Stands aud calls — stands and calls ; At which the inmate opens straight — Whom, ere the crumbling clay house falls, He takes in kind arms silently And shuts the door. Anonymous. POEMS OF JOY AKD SORROW. 37 A BALLAD VTOK A WEDDIJTG. TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, Oh, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair. At Charing Cross, hard by the way At Course-a park, without all doubt, He should have first been taken out By all the maids o' the town ; Though lusty Roger there had been. Or little George upon the Green, Or Vincent of the Crown. But wot you what? the youth was goinj To make an end of all his wooing ; But wot you what ? the youth was going To make an end of all his wooing." There is a house with stairs ; And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town Forty at least, in pairs. Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger, though, than thine) Walked on before the rest ; Our landlord looks like nothing to him ; The king, God bless him ! 'twould undo him. Should he go still so drest. The parson for him stayed ; Yet by his leave, for all his haste, He did not so much wish all past. Perchance, as did the maid. The maid, and thereby hangs a tale. For such a maid no Whitsun' ale Could ever yet produce ; No grape that's kindly ripe could be So round, so plump, so soft as she. Nor half so full of juice. 38 POEMS OF JOY A^D SORROW. Her finger was so small, tlie ring Would not stay on which they did bring, It was too wide a peck ; And to say truth, for out it must, It looked like the great collar, just. About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out. As if they feared the light ; And oh, she dances such a way, No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight ! Her cheeks so rare a white was on No daisy makes comparison, Who sees them is undone ; For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red ; and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin. Some bee had stung it newly ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get ; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit. Passion o' me ! how I run on ! There's that that would be thought upon, I trow, beside the bride ; The business of the kitchen's great. For it is fit that men should eat. Nor was it there denied. Just In the nick, the cook knocked thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey ; Each serving-man, with dish in hand, Marched boldly up, like our trained band. Presented, and away. When all the meat was on the table, What man of knife, or teeth, was able To stay to be entreated ? And this the very reason was. Before the parson could say grace. The company was seated. Now hats fly off", and youths carouse ; Healths first go round, and then the house. The bride's came thick and thick ; And when 'twas named another's health, Perhaps he made it hers by stealth, And who could help it, Dick ? O' the sudden up they rise and dance ; Then sit again, and sigh, and glance, Then dance again, and kiss. Thus several ways the time did pass. Till every woman wished her place. And every man wished his. By this time all were stolen aside To counsel and undress the bride ; But that he must not know ; But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind, And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so. Sm John Suckijn<5. OJV THE THRESHOLD. I. tING out, O bells, ring silver-sweet o'er hill and moor and fell! In mellow echoes let your chimes their hope- ful story tell. Ring out, ring out, all jubilant, this joyous glad refrain : "' A bright new year, a glad new year, hath come to us again !" n. Ah, who can say how much of joy within it there may be Stored up for us, who listen now to your sweet melody ? Good-bye, Old Year, tried, trusty friend, thy tale at last is told. O New Year, write thou thine for us in lines of brightest gold, in. The flowers of Spring must bloom at last, when gone the Winter's snow; God grant that after sorrow past, we all some joy may know. Though tempest-tossed our bark a while on life's rough waves may be. There comes a day of calm at last, when we the Haven see. IV. Then ring, ring on, O pealing bells ! there's music in the sound. Ring on, ring on, and still ring on, and wake the echoes round, The while we wish, both for ourselves and all whom we hold dear. That God may gracious be to us In this the bright new year I Anonymous, POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 39 /JNOME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving >© Lock me in delight awhile ; Let some pleasing dreams beguile All my fancies ; that from thence I may feel an influence, All my powers of care bereaving ! IKYOCATIOK TO SLEEP. Though but a shadow, but a sliding, Let me know some little joy ; We that suffer long annoy Are contented with a thought, Through an idle fancy wrought ; Oh, let my joys have some abiding! Beaumont and Fletcher. Francis Beaumont. John Fletcher. A QUESTIOJf. JTOY comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows QJ Like the wave ; Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men. Love lends life a little grace, A few sad smiles, and then Both are laid in one cold place, In the grave. Dreams dawn and fly, friends smile and die Like spring flowers ; Our vaunted life is one long funeral. Men dig graves with bitter tears For their dead hopes ; and all, Mazed with doubts and sick with fears, Count the hours. We count the hours ! These dreams of ours False and hollow. 3 Do we go hence and find that they are not dead! Joys we daily apprehend. Faces that smiled and fled, Hopes born here, and born to end. Shall we follow ? Matthew Arnold. IT JVE VEB COMES AGAIJY. fHERE are gains for all our losses. There are balms for all our pain ; But when youth, the dream, departs. It takes something from our hearts, And it never comes again. We are stronger, and are better. Under manhood's sterner reign ; StiU we feel that something sweet Followed youth, with flying feet. And will never come again. 40 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. Something beautiful is vanished, On the earth, and in the air, And we sigh for it in vain ; But it never comes again. We behold it everywhere, Richard Henry Stoddard. Jf^^ ^-^ 2%^ ^ ^^- -^;^ POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 41 THE BABY. W'HERE did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into here. Where did you get the eyes so blue ? Out of the sky, as I came through. Where did you get that little tear ? I found it in waiting when I got here. What makes youi* forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your cheek like a warm, w^hite rose ? I saw something better than any knows. Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? Three angels gave me at once a kiss. Where did you get this pretty ear ? God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands ? Love made itself into hooks and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ! From the same box as the cherub's wings. How^ did they all come just to be you ? God thought of me, and so I grew. But, how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here. George JVIacDonald. AT THE KIjYG'S GATE. t BEGGAR sat at the king's gate And sang of summer in the rain— A song with sounds reverberate Of wood and hill and plain. That, rising, bore a tender weight Of sweetness, strong and passionate ; A song with sigh of mountain pass, Ripple and rustle of deep grass. The whispering of wind-smote sheaves. Low lapping of long lily leaves. Red morns and purple-mooned eves. The king was w^eary of his part. The king was tired of his crown ; He looked across the rainy land, Across the barren stretch of sand, Out to the breadth of rainy sea. He heard the wind beat loud and free, The gilded casement, sullenly Falling away with mist and rain. " But, oh, it's a weary thing To wear a crown and be a king Oh, for one golden hour and sweet, To serve the king with willing feet!" But he would sleep and from his heart The jeweled, silken girdle loose. And give it room to turn and choose An easier measure for its beat. Into the gilded chamber crept A breath of summer, blown with rain And wild wet leaves against the pane. The royal sleeper smiled and slept. " T thought that all things sweet were dead!''- They heard him say who came to wed The crown again to the king's head. ANONYMOUS. KEYS. T^ ONG ago in old Granada, when the Moors i@f were forced to flee. Each man locked his home behind him, taking in his flight the key. Hopefully they watched and waited for the time to come when they Should return from their long exile to those homes so far away. But the mansions in Granada they had left in all their prime Vanished, as the years rolled onward, 'neath the crumbling touch of Time. Like the Moors, we all have dwellings where we vainly long to be. And through all life's changing phases ever fast we hold the key. Our fair country lies behind us ; we are exiles, too, in truth. For no more shall we behold her. Our Gran- ada's name is Youth. We have our delusive day-dreams, and rejoice w^hen, now and then. Some old heartstring stirs within us, and we feel our youth again. "We are young!" we cry triumphant, thrilled with old-time joy and glee. Then the dream fades slowly, softly, lea\ing nothing but the key ! Bessie Chandler. 42 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. MAIDEJ^HOOD. IjgJ AIDEN", with the meek, brown eyes, j|@i In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one. As the braided streamlets run ! Then why pause with indecision, When bright angels in thy vision Beckon thee to fields Elysian ? Seest thou shadows sailing by, As the dove, with startled eye, Sees the falcon's shadow fly ? Maiden, with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies." Standing, with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet! Gazing, with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance, On the river's broad expanse I Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem As the river of a dream. Hearest thou voices on the shore, That our ears perceive no more. Deafened by the cataract's roar ? O, thou child of many prayers ! Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares ; Care and age come unawares ! Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 43 Childhood is the bough where slumbered Birds and blossoms many-numbered ; Age, the bough with snows encumbered. Gather, then, each flower that grows. When the young heart overflows. To embahn that tent of snows. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE CITY OF THE LIVIjYG. iN a long banished age, whose varied story No record has to-day, So long ago expired its grief and glory. There flourished far away. In a broad realm, whose beauty passed all measure, A city far and wide, Wherein the dwellers lived in pea^ce and pleasure, And never any died. Disease and pain and death, those stern ma- rauders That mar our world's fair face,' Never encroached upon the pleasant borders Of this bright dwelling-place. No fear of parting, and no dread of dying Could ever enter there ; No mourning for the lost, no anguished cry- ing, Made any face less fair. Without the city's walls Death reigned as ever, And graves rose side by side ; Within the people laughed at his endeavor. And never any died. O happiest of all earth's favored places ! Oh, bliss to dwell therein ! To live in the sweet light of loving faces And fear no grave between. To feel no death-damp growing cold and cold- er, Disputing Life's warm truth ; To live on never lonelier nor older. Radiant in deathless youth. And hurrying from the world's remotest quar- ters A tide of pilgrims flowed Across broad plains and over mighty waters To find that blest abode. And there they lived in happiness and pleas- ure. And grew in power and pride. And did great deeds and laid up stores of treasure. And never any died. And many years rolled on and saw them striv- ing With unabated breath ; And other years still found and left them liv- ing, And gave no hope of death. Yet listen, hapless soul whom angels pity, Craving a boon like this ; Mark how the dwellers of the wondrous city Grew weary of their bliss. One and another who had been concealing The pain of life's long thrall. Forsook their pleasant faces and came steal- ing Outside the city's wall. Craving with wish that brooked no more denying. So long had it been crossed, The blessed possibility of dying — The treasure they had lost ! Daily the current of rest-seeking mortals Swelled to a broader tide, 'Till none were left within the city's portals, And graves grew green outside. Would it be worth the having or the giving. The boon of endless breath ? Ah, for the weariness that comes of living There is no cure but death! Ours were, indeed, a case deserving pity Were that sweet rest denied ; And few, methinks, would care to find the city Where never any died ! Elizabeth Akers Allen. BEYOJ^D THE GATE. fWO dimpled hands the bars of iron grasp- ed; Two blue and wondering eyes the space looked through. This massive gate a boundary had been set, Nor was she ever known to be but true. 44 POEMS OF JOY AXD SORROW. Strange were the sights she saw across the way— A little child had died some days before — And as she watched, amid the silence hushed, Some carried flowers, some a casket hore. The little watcher at the garden gate Grew tearful, hers such thoughts and won- derings were, Till said the nurse : " Come here, dear child. Weep not. We all must go. 'Tis God has sent for her." " If He should send for me" — thus spoke the child— " I'll have to tell the angel, ' Do not wait. Though God has sent for me, I cannot come ; I never go beyond the garden gate.' " Kathaijixe McDowell, Rice. REST. J\A Y feet are wearied, and my hands are tired, Jfi\^ My soul oppressed — And I desire, what I have long desired — Rest — only rest. 'Tis hard to toil, when toil is almost vain, In barren ways ; 'Tis hard to sow, and never garner grain In harvest days. The burden of my days is hard to bear. But God knows best ; And I have prayed, but vain has been my prayer, For rest — sweet rest. 'Tis hard to plant in spring and never reap The Autumn yield ; 'Tis hard to till, and when 'tis tilled to weep O'er fruitless field. And so I cry a weak and human cry, So heart oppressed ; And so I sigh a weak and human sigh. For rest — for rest. My way has wound across the desert years, And cares infest My path, and through the flowing of hot tears I pine for rest. And I am restless still ; 'twill soon be o'er ; For, down the West Life's sun is setting, and I see the shore Where I shall rest. Abram J. Ryax. (Father Ryau.) THE WORLD GOES UP AXT) THE WORLD GOES DOWJV. ^MHE world goes up and the world goes F down. And the sunshine follows the rain ; And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown Can never come over again. Sweet wife, can never come over again. For woman Is warm, though man maybe cold. And the night Will hallow the day; TiU the heart which at even was wear}^ and old. Can rise in the morning gay, Sweet wife, can rise in the morning gay. Charles Kixgsley. SOJVG—'' WHEJV THE DTMPLED WATEJl SLLPPETH." (From ' ' Alternoon at a Parsouage. ■■ ') WHET^ the dimpled water slippeth, Full of laughter, on its way, And her wing the wagtail dippeth, Running by the brink at play; When the poplar leaves a-tremble Turn their edges to the light, And the far-up clouds resemble Veils of gauze most clear and white ; And the sunbeams fall and flutter Woodland moss and branches brown. And the glossy finches chatter Up and down, up and down ; Though the heart be not attending, Having music of her own, On the grass, through meadows wending, It is sweet to walk alone. When the falling waters utter Something mournful on their way, And departing swallows flutter, Taking leave of bank and brae ; When the chaffinch idly sitteth With her mate upon the sheaves. And the wistful robin flitteth Over beds of j^ellow leaves ; When the clouds like ghosts that ponder Evil fate, float by and frown, And the listless wind doth wander Up and down, up and down ; Though the heart be not attending. Having sorrows of her own, Through the fields and fallows wending. It is sad to walk alone. Jean Ingelow. POEMS OF JOY AND SOKROW. 45 SOJVJVUT TO SLEEP. /g^OME, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of O make in me those civil wars to cease ; VS/ peace, I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, bed ; The indifferent judge between the high and A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light; low, A rosy garland, and a weary head. With shield of proof shield me from out the And if these things, as being thine by right, press Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see. throw : Sir Philip Sidney. "And the dream I spun was so lengthy, It lasted till dav was done." A DREAM, LL yesterday I was spinning. Sitting alone in the sun ! And the dream I spun was so lengthy, It lasted till day was done. I took the threads of my spinning All of blue summer air, And a flickering ray of sunlight Was woven in here and there. k I heeded not cloud or shadow That flitted over the hiU, Or the humming bees or the swallows, Or the trickling of the rill. The shadows grew longer and longer. The evening wind passed by. And the purple splendor of sunset Was flooding the western sky. 46 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. But I could not leave my spinning, For so fair my dream had grown, I heeded not, hour by hour, How the silent day had flown. At last the gray shadow^s fell round me, And the night came dark and chill, And I rose and ran down the valley. And left it all on the hill. I went up the hill this morning. To the place where my spinning lay — There was nothing but glistening dew-drops Remained of my dream to-day. Adelaide Anne Procter. BniYi:N'G HOME THE COWS. §UT of the clover and blue-eyed grass He turned them into the river-lane ; One after another he let them pass. Then fastened the meadow bars again. Under the willows and over the hill He patiently followed their sober pace ; The merry whistle for once was still. And something shadowed the sunny face. Only a boy I and his father had said He never could let his youngest go ; Two already were lying dead Under the feet of the trampling foe. But after the evening w^ork was done. And the frogs were loud in the meadow- swamp. Over his shoulder he slung his gun, And stealthily followed the footpath damp. Across the clover, and through the wheat. With resolute heart and purpose grim, Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet. And the blind bat's tlitting startled him. Thrice since then had the lanes been white, And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom ; And now, when the cows came back at night. The feeble father drove them home. For news had come to the lonely farm That three were lying where two had lain. And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm Could never lean on a son's again. The summer day grew cool and late ; He went for the cows when the work was done ; But down the lane, as he opened the gate. He saw them coming one by one : Brindle, Ebony, Speckle and Bess, Shaking their horns in the evening wind. Cropping the buttercups out of the grass — But who was it following close behind ? Loosely swung in the idle air The empty sleeve of army blue ; And worn and pale, from the crisping hair, Looked out a face that the father knew. For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn. And yield their dead to life again. And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn In golden glory at last may wane. The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes, For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb. And under the silent evening skies Together they followed the cattle home. Kate Putnam Osgood. THE WORLUS IjYDIFFEREJVCE. (From "The Virginians.") *HE world can pry out everything about us which it has a mind to know. But there is this consolation, which men will never accept in their own cases, that the world doesn't care. Consider the amount of scandal it has been forced to hear in its time, *!*" and how weary and hlase it must be of that kind of intelligence. You are taken to prison, and fancy yourself indelibly disgraced ? You are bankrupt under odd circum- stances ? You drive a queer bargain with your friends, and are found out, and imagine the world will punish you ? Pshaw 1 Your shame is only vanity. Go and talk to the world as if nothing had happened, and nothing has happened. Tumble down ; brush the mud off your clothes; appear with a smiling countenance, and nobody cares. Do you suppose society is going to take out its pocket-handkerchief and be inconsolable when you die ? Why should it care very much, then, whether your worship graces yourself or disgraces yourself? Whatever happens, it talks, meets, jokes, yawns, has its dinner pretty much as before. William Makepeace Thackeray. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 47 "Her book of the favorite poet unheeded at her side, She saw the bright noon pale to twilight soon, she saw the gloaming glide." WAITING. (^ITTE^G under the birch trees, in the !© beautiful April day, Watching the gleam through the branches stream, watching the sunlight's play ; Hearing the birds' gay carol, seeing each glancing wing. Wishing them mute, lest the coming foot were unheard 'mid the sounds of Spring. 48 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. Sitting under the birch trees, where the thick- ening lilacs made Of white, pui-ple, and green, a graceful screen, her lonely head to shade ; Her book of the favorite poet unheeded at her side, She saw the bright noon pale to twilight soon, she saw the gloaming glide, Glide from its couch of violets, with its sad, strange, lovely eyes, With its soft, cool touch that says so much, with its voice like our happy sighs ; With its sweet and soothing magic, for the tired heart and frame. That had throbbed so strong, had tarried so long, for the footstep that never came. Never! The evening darkened, the night fell soft o'er all. Each bird in its nest had found its rest ; the tiowers heard sleep's low call ; She passed by the screen of lilacs, she passed to her silent home. The sweet sad pain had been all in vain ; the footstep had never come. AXOXYMOUS. TEE LADTS DREAM. J^HE lady lay in her bed, P Her couch so warm and soft, But her sleep was restless and broken still ; For turning oft and oft From side to side, she muttered and moaned. And tossed her arms aloft. At last she startled up. And gazed on the vacant air, With alookof awe, as if she saw Some dreadful phantom there ; And then in the pillow she buried her face From visions ill to bear. The very curtain shook, Her terror was so extreme ; And the light that fell on the broidered quilt Kept a tremulous gleam ; And her voice was hollow, and shook as she cried : " Oh me ! that awful dream I " That weary, weary walk. In the churchyard's dismal ground ; And those horrible things, with shady wings, That came and fitted round ; Death, death, and nothing but death, In every sight and sound ! " And oh ! those maidens young. Who wrought in that dreary room With figures drooping and spectres thin, And cheeks without a bloom ; And the Voice that cried : ' For the pomp of pride. We haste to an early tomb ! " ' For the pomp and pleasure of pride, We toil like Afric slaves. And only to earn a home at last, Where yonder cypress waves ;' And then they pointed — I never saw A ground so full of graves ! " And still the coffins came. With their sorrowful trains and slow ; Coffin after coffin still, A sad and sickening show ; From grief exempt, I had never dreamt Of such a world of woe I " Of the hearts that daily break. Of the tears that hourly fall. Of the many, many troubles of life. That grieve this earthly ball. Disease and Hunger and Pain and Want ; But now I dreamt of them all. " For the blind and crippled were there. And the babe that pined for bread. And the houseless man, and the widow poor Who begged — to bury the dead ; The naked, alas, that I might have clad, The famished I might have fed ! " The sorrow I might have soothed. And the unregarded tears ; For many a thronging shape was there, From long forgotten years ; Aye, even the poor rejected Moor, Who raised my childish fears ! " Each pleading look that long ago I scanned with a heedless eye, Each face was gazing as plainly there As when I passed it by ; Woe, woe for me, if the past should be Thus present when I die I " No need of sulphureous lake. No need of fiery coal, But only that crowd of human kind POEMS OF JOY AKD SORROW. 49 Who wanted pity and dole, In everlasting retrospect Will wring my sinful soul ! "Alas! I have walked through life Too heedless where I trod ; Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm And till the burial sod, Forgetting that even the sparrow falls Not unmarked of God. " I drank the richest draughts. And ate whatever is good ; Fish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit, Supplied my hungry mood ; But I never remembered the wretched ones That starve for want of food. " I dressed as the noble dress. In cloth of silver and gold. With silk, and satin, and costly furs, In many an ample fold ; But I never remembered the naked limbs That froze with winter's cold ! " The wounds I might have healed ! The human sorrow and smart ! And yet it was never in my soul To play so ill a part ; But evil is wrought by want of thought. As well as want of heart!" She clasped her fervent hands, And the tears began to stream ; Large, and bitter, and fast they fell, Remorse was so extreme ; And yet, oh yet, that many a dame Would dream the Lady's Dream ! Thomas Hood. '* They gi'ed him my hand, but m}' heart was at the sea j Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me." ATJLB ROBm GRAY. T^/'HEN" the sheep are in the fauld, and the Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me W kye at hame, for his bride ; And a' the warld to rest are gane. But saving a croun he had naething else beside; The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed e'e, to sea, While my gudeman lies sound by me. And the croun and the pund were baith for me. 50 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. He hadna been away a week but only twa, When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa; My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me. My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin ; I toiled night and day, but their bread I could- na win ; Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e, Said, "Jennie, for thei;: sakes, oh, marry me!" My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back; But the wind it blew bigh, and the ship, it was a wrack; His ship it was a wrack — why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me ? My father urgit sair; my mother didna speak. But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break; They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea ; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four. When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he. Till he said, " I'm come hame to marry thee." Oh sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say; We took but ae kiss, and I bade him gang away ; I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee; And why was I born to say, Wae's me ? I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin ; I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin ; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, For auld Robin Gray he is kind to me. Lady Ann Lindsay. ODE TO ADVERSITY. ^AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, 11/ Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best; Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire, to send on earth. Virtue, his darling child, designed, To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade to form her infant mind ; Stern, rugged nurse 1 thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore ; What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know. And from her own, she learned to melt at oth- ers' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fiy Self pleasing Folly's idle brood, With Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse ; and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe. By vain Prosperity received ; To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom, in simple garb arrayed. Immersed In rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid. With leaden eye that loves the ground. Still on thy solemn steps attend ; Warm Charity, the general friend. With Justice, to herself severe. And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head. Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand I Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad. Nor circled with thy vengeful band. As by the impious thou art seen. With thundering voice and threatening mien. With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear! Thy milder influence impart. Thy philosophic train be there, To soften, not to wound my heart ; The generous spark extinct revive ; Teach me to love and to forgive ; Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man. Thomas Gray. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 51 BOCK ME TO SLEEP. EACKWARD, turn backward, O Time in your flight, Make me a child again, just for to-night! Mother, come back from the echoless shore. Take me again to your heart, as of yore ; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair ; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years ! I am so weary of toil and of tears. Toil without recompense, tears all in vain ; Take them, and give me my childhood again. I have grown weary of dust and decay. Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away, Weary of sowing for others to reap ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue. Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you ! Many a summer the grass has grown green. Blossomed and faded, our faces between. Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain, Long 1 to-night for thy presence again. Come from the silence, so long and so deep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Over my heart, in the days that are flown, No love like mother-love ever has shone ; No other worship abides and endures. Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours ; None bnt a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and the world-weary brain; Slumber's soft, calms o'er my heavy lids creep; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold. Fall on your shoulders, again as of old. Let it drop over my forehead to-night. Shading my faint eyes away from the light ; For with its sunny-edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore ; Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last listened your lullaby song ; Sing, then ; and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood's years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace. With your light lashes just sweeping my face. Never hereafter to wake or to weep. Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Elizabeth Akers Allen. ("Florence Percy.") OFT IJ\r THE STILLY JYtGHT |\FT in the stilly night, '%} Ere slumber's chain hath bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me ; The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years. The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone Now dimmed and gone. The cheerful hearts now broken : Thus in the stilly night. Ere slumber's chain has bound me. Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so linked together I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted. Whose lights are fled. Whose garlands dead. And all but he departed ! Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me. Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. Thomas Moore. AFFLICTIOJV. 'HE bread of bitterness is the food on which men grow to their fullest stature ; the waters of bitterness are the debatable ford through which they reach the shores of wisdom ; the ashes boldly grasped and eaten without faltering are the price that must be paid for the golden fruit of knowledge. Louise De La Rame. ("Ouida.") 52 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. WEARIJfESS. § LITTLE feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and hleed beneath your load ; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary thinking of your road ! O little hearts! that throb and beat With such impatient, feverish heat, Such limitless and strong desires ; Mine that so long has glowed and burned With passions into ashes turned Now covers and conceals its fires. " I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary thinking of your road." O little hands, that weak or strong. Have still to serve or rule so long, Have still so long to give or ask ; I, who so much with book or pen Have toiled among my fellow men Am weary thinking of your task ! O little souls as pure and white And crystalline as rays of light Direct from heaven, their source divine ; Refracted through the mist of years, How red my setting sun appears. How lurid looks this soul of mine! Heney Wadsworth Longfellow POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 53 SOj\G. (From "The Princess.") S through the land at eve we went, And plucked the ripened ears, We fell out, my wife and I, Oh, we fell out, I know not why, And kissed again with tears. For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years. There above the little grave. Oh, there above the little grave, We kissed again with tears. Alfred Tennyson. EjYOCH'S BETURjY. (From ''Enoch Arden.") UT Enoch yearned to see her face again ; 111) " If I might look on her sweet face again And know that she is happy !" So the thought Haunted and harass'd him, and drove him forth, At evening when the dull ISTovember day Was growing duller twilight, to the hill. There he sat down, gazing on all below ; There did a thousand memories roll upon him, Unspeakable for sadness. By-and-by The ruddy square of comfortable light, Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures The bird of passage, till he madly strikes Against it, and beats out his weary life. For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street, The latest house to landward ; but behind. With one small gate that open'd on the waste, Flourish'd a little garden square and wall'd ; And in it throve an ancient evergreen, A yew-tree, and all round it ran a walk Of shingle, and a walk divided it ; But Enoch shunn'd the middle walk and stole Up by the wall, behind the yew ; and thence That which he better might have shunned, if griefs Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw. For cups and silver on the burnish'd board Sparkled and shone ; so genial was the hearth : And on the right hand of the hearth he saw Philip, the slighted suitor of old times. Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees ; And o'er her second father stoopt a girl, A later but a loftier Annie Lee, Pair-haired and tall, and from her lifted hand Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring To tempt the babe, who rear'd his creasy arms. Caught at and ever miss'd it, and they laugh'd: And on the left hand of the hearth he saw The mother glancing often toward her babe. But turning now and then to speak with him, Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong. And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled. Now when the dead man come to life beheld His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee, And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness. And his own children tall and beautiful. And him, that other, reigning in his place, Lord of his rights and of his children's love — Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all. Because things seen are mightier than things heard, Stagger' d and shook, holding the branch, and fear'd To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry, AYhich in one moment, like the blast of doom. Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth. He, therefore, turning softly like a thief, Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot, And feeling all along the garden-wall. Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found, Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and closed. As lightly as a sick man's chamber door, Behind him, and came out upon the waste. And there he would have knelt, but that his knees Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug His fingers into the wet earth, and pray'd. " Too hard to bear ! why did they take me thence ? O God Almighty, blessed Savior, Thou That didst uphold me on my lonely isle. Uphold me. Father, in my loneliness, A little longer ! Aid me, give me strength Not to tell her, never to let her know. Help me not to break in upon her peace. My children, too ! must I not speak with these? They know me not. I should betray myself. Never. No father's kiss for me — the girl So like her mother, and the boy, my son." There speech and thought and nature failed a little, And he lay tranced. A1.FRED Tennyson. ^rx. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 55 COMFLAIKT. Shall know the tear, the shadow, and the (From "Kathriua.") knell; tlVER, sparkling river, I have fault to find ^ Mother of our race ! Art does but image with thee; ^a*® River, thou dost never give a word of peace ^" *^^«' ^o fair, and fond, and yet disconsolate. to me ; Hekry Theodore Tuckerman. Dimpling to each touch of sunshine, wimp- ling to each air that blows, Thou dost make no sweet replying to my sighing for repose. Flowers of mount and meadow, 1 have fault to find with you ; So the breezes cross and toss you, so your cups are filled with dew. Matters not though sighs give motion to the ocean of your breath ; Matters not though you are filling with the chilling drops of death. Birds of song and beauty, lo, I charge you all with blame ! Though all hapless passions thrill and fill me, you are still the same ; I can borrow for my sorrow nothing that avails From your lonely note, that only speaks of joy that never fails. Oh, indifference of Nature to the fact of hu- man pain ! Every grief that seeks relief entreats it at her hand in vain ; Not a bird speaks forth its passion, not a riv- er seeks the sea. Nor a flower from wreaths of summer breathes in sympathy with me. JosiAH Gilbert Holland. OBE TO AJ^ IMDIAJV GOLD COIJ^. ^LAVE of the dark and dirty mine, ® What vanity has brought thee here ? How can I love to see thee shine So bright, whom I have bought so dear The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear For twilight converse, arm in arm ; The jackal's shriek bursts on my ear. Where mirth and music wont to charm. By Cherical's dark wandering streams. Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild, Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams Of Teviot loved while still a child. Of castled rocks stupendous piled By Esk or Eden's classic wave. Where loves of youth and friendships smiled, Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave ! Fade day-dreams sweet, from memory fade ! The perished bliss of youth's first prime That once so bright on fancy played Henry T. Tuckerman. TO THE ''EVE'' OF POWERS. H, thine is not the woe of love forlorn Pi That Niobe's maternal anguish wears, Nor yet the grief of sin, remorseful born, Canova's Magdalen so gently bears ; But the sad consciousness that through a wrong Conceived in self, and for a selfish end. Immeasurable pain will now belong To unborn millions, with their life to blend; A heritage whereby sweet nature's face, So radiant with hope, and love's dear spell, And all on earth that breathes of joy or grace, 4 56 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. Revives no more in after-time. Far from my sacred natal clime, I haste to an untimely grave ; The dai'ing thoughts that soared sublime Are sunk in ocean's southern wave. Slave of the mine ! thy yellow light Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear. A gentle vision comes by night My lonely widowed heart to cheer ; Her eyes are dim with many a tear That once were guiding stars to mine ; Her fond heart throbs w ith many a fear : I cannot bear to see thee shine. For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave, 1 left a heart that loved me true. I crossed the tedious ocean-wave To roam in climes unkind and new ; The cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my withered heart ; the grave, Dark and untimely met my view ; And all for thee, vile yellow slave! Ha ! com'st thou now so late to mock A wanderer's banished heart forlorn. Now that his frame the lightning shock Of sun-rays tipped with death has borne? From love, from friendship, country torn. To memory's fond regrets the prey. Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn I Go mix thee with thy kindred clay ! John Leyden. " Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea !" §REAK, break, break. On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. Oh well for the fisherman's boy. That he shouts with his sister at play! BREAK, BREAK, BREAK Oh well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill. But oh for the touch of a vanished hand. And the sound pf a vpice that H still! POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 57 Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. Alfred Tennyson. THE OLD FAMILLIR FACES. J) HAVE had playmates, I have had compan- ' ions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school- days ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing. Drinking late, sitting late with my bosom cronies ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a love once, fairest among women ; Closed are her doors on me now, I must not see her. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man ; Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly ; Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seemed a desert I was bound to trav- erse. Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a broth- er. Why wert thou not born in my father's dwell- ing? So might we talk of the old familiar faces, How some they have died, and some they have left me. And some are taken from me ; all are depart- ed. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. Charles Lamb. THE BAREFOOT BOY. BLESSINGS on thee, little man. Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed b^ strawberries on the hiU y With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ! From my heart I give thee joy : I was once a barefoot boy. Prince thou art — the grown-up man Only is republican. Let the million-dollared ride ! Barefoot, trudging at his side. Thou hast more than he can buy, In the reach of ear and eye ; Outward sunshine, inward joy. Blessings on thee, barefoot boy ! O ! for boyhood's painless play, Sleep that wakes in la^ighing day. Health that mocks the doctor's rules. Knowledge never learned of schools : Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl, and habitude Of the tenants of the wood ; How the tortoise bears his shell. How the woodchuck digs his cell. And the ground-mole sinks his well ; How the robin feeds her young. How the oriole's nest is hung ; Where the whitest lihes blow, Where the freshest berries grow, Wherethe ground-nut trails its vine, Where the wood-grape's clusters shine ; Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay. And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans ! For eschewing books and tasks, Nature answers all he asks ; Hand in hand with her he walks, Face to face with her he talks. Part and parcel of her joy. Blessings on the barefoot boy ! for boyhood's time of Jime, Crowding years in one brief moon. When all things I heard or saw. Me, their master, waited for ! 1 was rich in flowers and trees. Humming-birds and honey-bees ; For my sport the squirrel played. Plied the snouted mole his spade ; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone ; Laughed the brook for my delight. Through the day and through the night : Whispering at the garden wall. Talked with me from faU to fall j 58 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan.' Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Ai)ples of Hesperides ! Still, as my horizon grew. Larger grew my riches too. All the world I saw or knew Seemed a complex Chinese toy, Fashioned for a barefoot boy! O, for festal dainties spread. Like my bowl of milk and bread. Pewter spoon and bowl of wood. On the door-stone, gray and rude ! O'er me, like a regal tent. Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent ; Purple-curtained, fringed with gold. Looped in many a wind-swung fold; Wliile, for music, came the play POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 59 Of the pied frogs' orcliestra ; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch ; pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man I Live and laugh as boyhood can ; - Though the flinty slopes be hard. Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat ; All too soon these feet must hide In the prison-cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod. Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread the mills of toil. Up and down in ceaseless moil; Happy if their track be found Never on forbidden ground ; Happy if they sink not in Quick and treacherous sands of sin. Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy. Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! John Greenleaf WHrmER " Sleep on, baby on the floor, Tired of all thy playing." SLEEFIKG AKT) WATCHIKG. ^LEEP on, baby on the floor. Little head and little foot )# Tired of all thy playing, Heavy laid for pleasure. With a smile the sweeter for Underneath the lids half shut That you dropped away in I Slants the shining azure ; On your curls' fair roundness stand Open soul in noonday sun, Golden lights serenely ; So you lie and slumber! One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Nothing evil having done, Folds the dimple inly ; Nothing can encumber. 60 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. I, who cannot sleep as well, Shall I sigh to view you? Or sigh further to foretell All that may undo you? Nay, keep smiling, little child, Ere the sorrow neareth. I will smile, too! Patience mild Pleasure's token weareth. Nay, keep sleeping before loss ; I shall sleep through losing : As by cradle, so by cross. Sure is the reposing : Go, look in vour hall, where the chandelier's light ^ Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night. Where the rich hanging velvet in shadowy fold, Sweeps gracefully down with its trimming of gold. And the mirrors of silver take up and renew, In long lighted vistas, the wildering view — Go there in jour patches, and find if you can, A welcoming smile for the moneyless man ! And God knows who sees us twain. Child at childish leisure, I am near as tired of pain As you seem of pleasure ; Very soon, too, by his grace Gently wrapped around me. Shall I show as calm a face, Shall I sleep as soundly : Diftering in this, that you Clasp your playthings sleeping, While my hand shall drop the few Given to my keeping; Differing in this, that I Sleeping shall be colder. And in waking presently, Brighter to beholder : Differing in this, beside, (Sleeper, have you heard me ? Do you move, and open wide Eyes of wonder toward me ?) That while you I thus recall From your sleep, I solely. Me from mine an angel shall, With reveille holy ! Elizabeth Barrett Browning. THE MONEYLESS MAX. IS there no secret place on the face of the I earth. Where charity dwelleth, where virtue hath birth ? Where bosoms in mercy and kindness shall heave, And the poor and the wretched shall "ask and receive ?" Is there no place on earth where a knock from the poor Will bring a kind angel to open the door? Ah I search the wide world wherever you can, There is no open door for a moneyless man 1 Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire, "Wliich gives back to the sun his same look of red fire. Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within. And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin; Go down the long aisle — see the rich and the great. In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate — Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can. Who opens a pew to a moneyless man. Go, look on yon judge in the dark flowing gown, With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down. Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong. And punishes right where he justifies wrong ; "VATiere jurors their lips on the Bible have laid. To render a verdict they've already made ; Go, there in the court-room, and find if you can, Any law for the cause of a moneyless man ! Go, look in the banks where mammon has told His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold ; Where safe from the hand of the starving and poor. Lays pile upon pile of the glittering ore ; Walk up to the counter — and there you may stay Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray, And you'll find at the banks no one of the clan With money to loan to a moneyless man ! POEMS OF JOY AKD SORROW. 61 Then go to your hovel ; no raven has fed And bless while it smites you, the chastening The wife who has suffered too long for her rod ; bread ; And you'll find at the end of your little life's Kneel down on the pallet and kiss the death span, frost There's a welcome above for a moneyless From the lips of the angel your poverty lost ; man ! Then turn in your agony upward to God, Henry T. SxAirroK* .;^- wK.r'^ I've said my 'seven times ' over and over- Seven times one are seven." SOKGS OF SEVEJ{. SEVEN TIMES ONE-EXULTATION. J am old— SO old I cau Write a letter ; f HERE'S no dew left on the daisies and My birthday lessons are done, clover. The lambs play always— they know no better ; There's no rain left in heaven. They are only one times one. I've said my " seven times" over and over — Seven times one are seven. O Moon I in the night I have seen you sailing 62 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. And shining so round and low. The fox-glove shoots out of the green matted You were bright — ah, bright — but your light heather, is failing ; Preparing her hoods of snow ; You are nothing now but a bow. She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weath- er : You Moon ! have you done something wrong O, children take long to grow, in heaven, That God has hidden your face ? I wish, and I wish that the spring would go I hope, if you have, you will soon b6 forgiven, faster. And shine again in your place. Nor long summer bide so late ; And I could grow on like the fox-glove and O velvet Bee ! you're a dusty fellow — aster, You've powdered your legs with gold. For some things are ill to wait. O brave marsh Mary-buds, rich and yellow. Give me your money to hold I I wait for the day when dear hearts shall dis- cover, O Columbine, open your folded wrapper, While dear hands are laid on my head ; Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! " The child is a woman, the book may close Cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper over. That hangs in your clear green beU ! For aU the lessons are said." A r,/i ^1,^^ ^^ ^«„^ ^^ci- ^.n-v. +1,^ ^r...^r^ ^^r.c I wsiit foT uij stOTj — ^thc blrds cannot sing it, And show me your nest, with the young ones „ ^ -, .^ ^^ ^ I will not steal them away ; The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O 1 am old ! vou may trust me, linnet, linnet, _ . ^^^f ^ • ■• -^ . v I am seven times one to-dky. Such as I wish it to be. SEVEN TIxMES TWO.-ROMANCE. SEVEN TIMKS THREE.-LOVE. OU bells in the steeple, ring, ring out 1 LEANED out of window, I smelt the white your changes -l clover. How many soever they be. Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he gate ; ranges "Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one Come over, come over to me. lover — Hush, nightingale, hush ! O sweet nightin- Yet bird's clearest carol, by fall or by swell- gale, wait ing Till I listen and hear No magical sense conveys. If a step draweth near. And bells have forgotten their old art of tell- For my love he is late ! ing The fortune of future days. " The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, " Turn again, turn again," once they rang A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree, cheerily, The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes While a boy listened alone ; clearer : Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily To what art thou listening, and what dost All by himself on a stone. . thou see ? Let the star-clusters glow, Poor bells ! I forgive you ; your good days are Let the sweet waters flow, over. And cross quickly to me. And mine, they are yet to be ; No listening, no longing shall aught, aught dis- "You night-moths that hover where honey cover : brims over You leave the story to me. From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep ; POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. '* Too deep for swift telling ; and jet, my one lover, I've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night." "You glow-worms, shine out, and the pathway And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender discover and small! To him that comes darkling along the rough Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's steep. Ah, my sailor, make haste. For the time runs to waste, And my love lieth deep^ Too deep for swift telling ; and yet, my one lover, I've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to- night." By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover ; Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight ; But I'll love him more, more Than e'er wife loved before, Be the days dark or bright. SEVEN TIMES EOUR.-MATERNrrT. TjTEIGH-HO ! daisies and buttercups, J^l^ Fair yellow daflfodlls, stately and taU ! When the wind wakes how they rock in the grasses, own lasses. Eager to gather them all. Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups ! Mother shall thread them a daisy chain ; Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow. That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain ; Sing, " Heart thou art wide, though the house be but narrow," Sing once and sing it again. Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups. Sweet wagging > cowslips, they bend and they bow ; A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters. And. haply one musing doth stand at her prow. O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daugh- ters, May-be he thinks on you now ! Helgh-ho ! daisies and buttercups, 64 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. **0 bonny bro^-n sons, and O sweet little daughters, May-be be thinks on you now !" Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall — A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, God that is over us all! SEVEN TIMES FIVE.-WIDOWHOOD. SLEEP and rest, my heart makes moan, Before I am well awake ; " Let me bleed ! Oh, let me alone. Since I must not break !" For children wake, though fathers sleep, AVith a stone at foot and at head ; sleepless God ! forever keep, Keep both living and dead ! 1 lift mine eyes, and what to see, But a world happy and fair ; I have not wished it to mourn with me, Comfort is not there. O what anear but golden broom8l And a waste of reedy rills ; what afar but the line glooms On the rare blue hills ! 1 shall not die, but live forlore — How bitter it is to part! to -meet thee, my love, once more! O my heart, my heart ! No more to hear, no more to see ! that an echo might awake And waft one note of thy psalm to me, Ere my heart-strings break ! 1 should know It how faint soe'er, And with angel voices blent ; O once to feel thy spirit anear, 1 could be content 1 O once between the gates of gold, While an angel entering trod ; But once — thee sitting to behold On the hills of God. ^/i.-rx^ OU-^ d^i^iru,^'^ 66 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. SEVEN TIMES 5IX.-GIVING IN MARRIAGE. f^O bear, to nurse, to rear, W To watch, and then to lose : To see my bright ones disappear, Drawn up like morning dews ; — To bear, to nurse, to rear. To watch, and then to lose : This have I done when God drew near Among his own to choose. To hear, to heed, to wed. And with thy lord depart In tears that he, as soon as shed, Will let no longer smart. — To hear, to heed, to Vv ed. This whilst thou didst I smiled. For now it was not God who said, " Mother, give me thy child." O fond, O fool, and blind. To God I gave with tears ; But, when a man like grace should find. My soul put by her fears. O fond, O fool, and blind, God guards in happier spheres ; That man will guard where he did bind Is hope for unknown years. To hear, to heed, to wed. Fair lot that maidens choose, Thj"^ mother's tenderest words are said. Thy face no more she views ; Thy mother's lot, my dear. She doth in naught accuse ; Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, To love — and then to lose. SEVEN TIMES SEVEN. -LONGINGS FOR HOME. A SONG OF A BOAT. fHERE was once a boat on a billow : 'Lightly she rocked to her port remote. And the foam was white in her wake like snow, And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow, And bent like a wand of willow. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat Went curtsying over the billow, T marked her course till a dancing mote She faded out on the moonlit foam. And I stayed behind in the dear loved home; And my thoughts all day were about the boat, And my dreams upon the pillow. I pray you hear my song of a boat, For it is but short :— My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat. In river or port. Long I looked out for the lad she bore, On the open desolate sea. And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, For he came not back to me — Ah, me! A SONG OF A NEST. fHERE was once a nest in a hollow, Down in the mosses and knot-grass press- ed. Soft and warm and full to the brim ; Vetches leaned over it purple and dim ; With buttercup buds to follow. I pray you hear my song of a nest. For it is not long : — You shall never light in a summer quest The bushes among — Shall never light on a prouder sitter, A fairer nestful, nor ever know A softer sound than their tender twitter. That wind-like did come and go. I had a nestful once of my own — Ah, happy, happy I! Right dearly I loved them: but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly. Oh, one after one they flew away. Far up to the heavenly blue, To the better country, the upper day ; And — I wish I was going, too. I pray you what is the nest to me, My empty nest ? And what is the shore where I stood to see My boat sail down to the west? Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed ? Can I call that home where my nest was set. Now all its hope hath failed ? Nay, but the port where my sailor went. And the land where my nestlings be : There is the home where my thoughts are sent. The only home for me — Ah, me ! Jean Ingelow. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 67 THE BETURJf OF RIP YAK WIJ^KLE. 'E had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his grey beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very vil- lage was altered ; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors — stranger faces at the windows — everything was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains— there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been — Rip was sorely perplexed — " That flagon last night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly!" It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Yan Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed — " My very dog," sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me!" He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Yan Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears — he called loudly for his wife and children — the lonely chambers rang for a moment wtth his voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A large, rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, " The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall, naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assem- blage of stars and stripes — all this was strange and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peace- ful pipe ; but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, "General Washington." There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquility. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Yedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead of idle speeches; or Yan Bummel, the school-master, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — members of Congress — liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Yan Winkle. The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with great curios- ity. The orator bustled up to him, and drawing him partly aside, inquired " on which side he voted." Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, " whether he was Federal or Democrat ?" Jlip's Return to His Homb. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 69 Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question ; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, in- to his .very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village V "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless him ! " Here a general shout burst from the by-standers — "Atory! atory! a spy! a refugee! hus- tle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? Name them." Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's Nicholas Yedder? " There was a silence for a little while, when an old man re- plied, in a thin, piping voice, "Nicholas Vedderl why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in the chureh-yard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too." "Where's Brom Dutcher? " "Oh, he went off to the army In the beginning of the war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point — others say he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know — he never came back again." "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster? " " He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in Congress." Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand: war — Congress — Stony Point ; — he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, " Does no- body here know Rip Van Winkle ? " " Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or three; " Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as he went up the mountain : ap- parently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name? "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end ;" I am not myself— I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no — that's somebody else got into my shoes — I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and every thing's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I am ! " The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, "hush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind." IVTiat is your name, my good woman ? " asked he, "Judith Gardenier." *' And your father's name ? " 70 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. "Ah! poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since — his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one more question to ask ; but he put it with a faltering voice : " Where's your mother ? " Rip's Reception by the Villagers. " Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler." There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " I am your father ! " cried he—" young Rip Van Winkle once— old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ? " All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his ftice for a moment, exclaimed, " Sure enough ! it is Rip Van Winkle— it is himself I Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, where have you been these twenty long years ? " Washington IK^^NG. POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 71 A SOXG OF LOXG AGO. SONG of long ago, Sing it lightly — sing it low — Sing it softly — like the lisping of the lips we used to know When our baby — ^laughter spilled From the hearts forever tilled With a music sweet as robin ever trilled. Let the fragrant summer breeze. And the leaves of locust trees, And the apple buds and blossoms, and the wings of honey bees, Ail palpitate with glee, Till the happy harmony Brings back each childish joy to you and me. Let the eyes of fancy turn Where the tumbled pippins burn Like embers in the orchard's lap of tousled grass and fern ; And let the wayward wind. Still singing, plod behind The cider press — the good old-fashioned kind I Blend in the song the moan Of the dove that grieves alone, And the wild whirr of the locust, and the bum- ble's drowsy drone ; And the low of cows that call Through the pasture bars when all The landscape faints away at evenfall. Then, far away and clear. Through the dusty atmosphere. Let the wailing of the Kildee be the only sound you hear. Oh, sweet and sad and low As the memory may know Is the glad, pathetic song of Long Ago ! James Whitcomb Riley. DOW.Y OX THE SUWAjYjYEE RIVER. ^/*AY down upon the Suwannee river. Far, far away. There's where my heart is turning ever, There where the old folks stay. All up and down the whole creation, Sadly I roam, Still longing for the old plantation And for the old folks at home. Chorus — All the world is sad and dreary 5 Everywhere I roam ; O, darkies, how my heart grows weary Far from the old folks at home. All 'round the little farm I wandered When I was young, Then many happy days I squandered, Many the songs I sung. When I was playing with my brother Happy was I, O, take me to my kind old mother, There let me live and die. Chorus — All the world, etc. One little hut among the bushes. One that I love, Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes. No matter where I rove. When will I see the bees a humming All 'round the comb, When will I hear the banjo tumming, Down in my good old home. Chorus — All the world is sad and dreary Everywhere I roam, O, darkies, how my heart grows weary Far from the old folks at home. Anonymous. BEAUTIFUL SXOW. §H! the snow, the beautiful snow! Filling the sky and the earth below. Over the housetops, over the street. Over the heads of the people you meet : Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along, Beautiful snow ! it can do no wrong, Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek. Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak, Beautiful snow from the heaven above, Pure as an angel, gentle as love ! Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow ! How the flakes gather and laugh as they go ! Whirling about in the maddening fun. It plays in its glee with every one. Chasing, Laughing, Hurrying by. It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye, And the dogs, with a bark and a bound. Snap at the crj'^stals that eddy around : The town's alive, and its heart is aglow. To welcome the coming of beautiful snow I 72 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. How wild the crowd goes swaying along. Hailing each other with humor and song ; How the gay sledges, like meteors, dash by, Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye. Ringing, Swinging, Dashing they go. Over the cmst of the beautiful snow ; Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, To be trampled in mud by the crowds rush- ing by. To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet, Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street. Once I was pure as the snow — but I fell ! Fell like the snowflakes, from heaven to hell ! Fell to be trampled as fllth in the street, Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat ; Pleading, Cursing, Dreading to die. Selling my soul to whoever would buy. Dealing in shame for morsels of bread. Hating the living and fearing the dead. Merciful God ! have I fallen so low ? And yet I was once as the beautiful snow. Once I was fair as the beautiful snow% With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow; Once I w^as loved for my innocent grace — Flattered and sought for the charms of my face. Father, Mother, Sisters, all, God, and myself, I've lost by my fall ; The veriest wretch that goes shivering by. Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh; For all that is on or about me, I know There is nothing that's pure like the beautiful snow. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go? How strange it would be when the night comes again. Fainting, Freezing, Dying alone, Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a tooan To be heard in the streets of the crazy town, Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down, To lie, and so die in my terrible woe. With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow. Anonymous. '' OH, THAT THIS TOO, TOO SOLID FLESH WOULD MELT" (From "Hamlet," Act I., Scene 2.) MAM. Oh that this too, too solid flesh would melt. Thaw and resolve itself into a dew ! Or, that the Everlasting had not tix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden. That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king ; that w^as, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the w inds of heav- en Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must 1 remember ? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: And yet, within a month, — Let me not think on't ; — Frailty, thy name is woman ! — A little month ; or ere those shoes were old, With which she foUow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears ;— why she, even she, — O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason. Would have mourn'd longer !— Married with my uncle. My father's brother, but no more like my fath- er, Than I to Hercules ; within a month. Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not, nor it cannot come to good ; But break, my heart, for I must hold mf tongue I M^'JI^IAM SlIAKSPKRB. I POEMS OF JOY AKD SORKOW. 73 green SOJYG, (From 'As You Like It," Act IT., Scene 7.) I. LOW, 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. Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh. As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp. Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember' d not. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c. William Shakspere. The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see! The Spartan, borne upon his shield. Was not more free. Awake ! (not Greece — she is awake !) Awake, my spirit ! Think through whom Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake, And then strike home ! Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood ! — unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honorable death Is here : — up to the field, and give Away thy breath ! Seek out^ — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best ; Then look around and choose thy ground, And take thy rest. George Gordon, Lord Byron. OM THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY LIMES WBITTEJV BY OKE IJ^ THE THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR." MissoLONGHi, Jan. 22d, 1824. ^J^IS time this heart should be unmoved, i^ Since others it has ceased to move : Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love ! My days are in the yellow leaf ; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone ! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle ; Nor torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus — aud 'tis not here — Such thoughts should shake my soul, nc now^ Where glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow. TOWER, BEIJfG YOUJ^G AJfD COJVDEMJSTED TO DIE. [The following poem is made up entirely ot mono- syllables: a fact which we do not remember ever seeing noted elsewhere.] MY prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain : My crop of corn is but a field of tares. And all my good is but vain hope of gain ; The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun ; And now I live, and now my life is done ! The Spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung: The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green ; My youth is gone, and yet I am but young ; I saw the world, and yet I was not seen ; My thread is cut, and yet it was not spun ; And now I live, and now my life is done ! I sought my death, and found it in my womb; I looked for life, and saw it was a shade ; I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb , And now I die, and now I am but made ; The glass is fuU, and now my glass is run ; And now I live, and now my life is done I Chidiock Tychborn. 74 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. JULIET TAKIJ^G THE OPIATE (From "Romeo and Juliet," Act IV., Scene 3.) %TUL. Farewell ! — God knows when we shall (SJ meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, Subtly hath ministered to have me dead ; Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo ? I fear, it is : and yet, methinks, it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man : I will not entertain so bad a thought.— How if, when I am laid into the tomb. "The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place." That almost freezes up the heat of life : I'll call them back again to comfort me ; Nurse!— What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone.— Come, phial. — What if this mixture do not work at all? Must I of force be married to the county ?— No, no ; — this shall forbid it ; — lie thou there. — [Laying down a dagger. What if it be a poison, which the friar I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in. And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night. Together with the terror of the place, — As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. 75 Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd ; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth. Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say. At some hours in the night spirits resort ; — Alack, alack ! is it not like, that I, So early waking — what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ; — O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught. Environed with all these hideous fears ? And madly play with my forefathers' joints ? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ? And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone. As with a club, dash out my desperate brains ? O, look ! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point :— Stay, Tybalt, stay !— Romeo, I come I this do I drink to thee. [She throws herself on the bed. William Shakspere. THU MITHERLESS BAIBJf. WHEN" a' ither bairnies are hushed to their hame By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grandame, Wha stands last an' lanely, an' naebody carin'? 'Tis the puir doited loonie — the mitherless bairn. The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed, Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head ; His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn. An' litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn. Aneath his cauld brow siccan dreams hover there, O' hands that wont kindly to kame his dark hair; But morning brings clutches, a' reckless and stern. That lo'e nae the locks o' the mitherless bairn. "X on sister, that sang o'er his saftly rocked bed, Now rests in the mools where her mammy is laid; The father toils sair their wee bannock to earn An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. Her spirit, that passed in yon hour o' his birth, Still watches his wearisome wanderings on earth. Recording in heaven the blessings they earn Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn. Oh! speak na him harshly — ^he trembles the while. He bends to your bidding, an' blesses your smile ; In their dark hours o' anguish, the heartless shall learn. That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn I WiLLL\M Thorn. BESOLATIOJ^ OF BALCLUTEA. (From "Fingal.") HAVE seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls ; and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was re- moved from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head : the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows ; the rank grass of the wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina ; silence is in the house of her fathers. Raise the song of mourning, O bards ! over the land of strangers. They have but fallen before us ; for one day we must fall. Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days ? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day : yet a few years and the blast of the desert comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield. And let the blast of the desert come ! we shall be renowned in our day ! The mark of my arm shall be in battle ; my name in the song of bards. Raise the song, send round the shell ; let joy be heard in my hall. When thou, sun of heaven, shalt fail ! if thou shalt fail, thou mighty light I if thy brightness is but for a season, like Fingal, our fame shall survive thy beams. Such was the song of Fingal in the day of his joy. James Macphebson* 76 POEMS OF JOY AND SORROW. *A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread." THE SOXG OF THE SHIRT WITH fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread. Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt. And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the " Song of the Shirt." "Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof: And work, work, work. Till the stars shine through the roof : It's oh ! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work ! " Work, work, work. Till the brain begins to swim ; Work, work, work. Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! Seam and gusset and band. Band and gusset and seam. Till over the buttons I fall asleep. And sew them on in a dream ! O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, POEMS OF JOY AND SORROWo 77 But hnman creatures' liA^es ! Stitch, stitch, stitch. In poverty, hunger, and dirt. Sewing at once, with a double thread. A shroud as well as a shirt ! But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly bone ? I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own. Because of the fasts I keep ; Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! Work, work, work ! My labor never flags ; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread, and rags ; That shattered roof, and this naked floor, A table, a broken chair, And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there. Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, w^ork, work, As prisoners w^ork for crime : Band and gusset and seam. Seam and gusset and band. Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand. Work, work, work, In the dull December light. And work, work, work, When the weather is warm and bright, While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs. And twit me with the spring. Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet. With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet 5 For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal I Oh, but for one short hour, A respite, however brief! Ko blessed leisure for Love or Hope, But only time for grief; A little weeping would ease my heart, But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread ! " With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread. Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt. And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone could reach the Rich I - She sang this " Song of the Shirt ! " Thomas Hood. c^4^ ^