■^ F-\/.^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf .....:^.Y r UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 'I ^^„fc- iJM^j> - ^ ''ji}0MjL ^'F^^' TlTD^t >TJ Zr Ml 3 CTxi^-^q-'c^cSjic a 1 EJ^'O'^ ! s? ^.\/X^ jmXMiS^^ ^- v\i7^ v:\r7^ >^r 1 I^\v^^ '^^J^ 4^/A- ^:'^^' A3 Uk' 'ZJ i. •^A^'^- :^^- Edi,e*v^ 7-!;^^'.:^ CHICAGO RHODES & McCLURE, 1885. K^: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by JR. S. Rliodes, In the OflBce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. >i< THE POET'S STAR-TUNED HARP TO SWEEP. E. B. Browning. HThere are in this loud stunning tide of human care and crime, with whom the melodies abide of the everlasting chimej who carry music in their heart through dusky lane and wrangling mart, plying their daily toil with busier feet, because their secret souls a holy strain repeat. J. Keble. CONTENTS. A Beautiful Legend _ 126 A Christian Hymn. — Alfred Dommett 368 A Christmas Hymn. — Edmund H. Sem^s- 339 A Love Song. — A. P. Graves - 246 A Song of Home.— ^m^7?/ C H. 31iUer. 216 A Woman's Love Dream. — Nettie P. Houston 172 A Hundred Years form Now.— l/?^s. Ford {Una.) 211 A Wish.— S. Rogers - 266 A Free Show. — Wyoming Kit 105 A Farewell 86 A Flower for the Dead 381 A Singing Lesson. — Jean Ingelow 383 A Little Word ...323 A Petition to Time. — B.Cornwall 43 A Portrait - 100 A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea. — A. Cunningham 40 A Musical Instrument. — E. B. Broionhig 133 An Angel in the Houoe. — L. Hunt 28 A Game Two Can Play 301 A Farewell. — Charles EingsU y - 342 Advice to a young man. — Ben Johnson - 330 At Chess.— Sallie A. Brock... 207 At a Solemn Music. — John Milton 275 Annie and Willie's Prayer. — Mrs. S. P. Snoiv 296 And Thou art Bead.— Byron - 327 Antony and Cleopatra.— (9e?i. W. H. Lytle 287 Angel Visits.— ilfrs Hemans 363 After-Life of the Poet's Work.— Jo7m Keats 379 Album Verses. — Various Authors 395 After the Storm. — Mrs. Bishop Thompson 365 Beautiful Things.— ^^Ze?i P. Allerton 26 Beyond.— i?e?ir2/ Burton - 67 Bed 88 Bingen on the Rhine. — Mrs. Norton - - 149 Bugle Song. — A. Tennyson ---- 177 Beauty: A Sonnet.— TF. Shakspere 1 ..178 (vii,) vni CONTENTS. Beautiful Hands.— .¥rs. Ellen H. Gates : 235 Bishop Ken's Doxology 308 Byron's Finest Image -..356 Brown Lark and Blackbird 336 Comfort-...- 49 Christmas Chimes. — Various Authors 213 Qo\m&e\.—Mary E. W. Sherwood -378 Contrasts 391 Drifting. — Calista Z. Grant 85 Dead. — Alma Lattin 124 David's Lament over Absalom. — N. P. Willis 258 Death's First Day. — Byron 347 Elegy Written in a Country Church Yard. — Thoma^s Gray 55 Example. — . / Keble 70 Extracts from Burns.— i^. G. Halleck .. - 102 Extracts from " L' Allegro."— J. Milto7i - - 143 Extracts from " Criticism."— .4. Pope 155 Evening. — Lord Byron 335 Farewell to My Harp 400 Father, What'er of Earthly Bliss.— ^nna Steele.... 130 Friendship. — W. Shakspere 195 Faith. — Frances Anne Kemhle-. 87 From the Castle of Indolence.— J Thompson 289 Gillyflowers - - 89 God's Ways 123 God Knoweth. — Mrs. Mary G. Brainard 161 Gone Before .- 341 Hymn of Natui:e.—M^. O. B. Pea5od2/ .- -. 315 Inward Music. — J. Keble ..- iii I'd Mourn the Hopes.— Tom Moore 78 I Saw Thee Weep. — George G. Byron 324 Kindred Keaits.— Mrs. Hemans 357 Lead, Kindly Light. — J. H. Newman 35 Little Brown Hands.— If ar-^/ fi". ^roiti 51 Love's Philosophy.— P. B. Shelley 114 Light and Darkness 241 Lines Written While Boat Sailing at Evening.— IF. Words- worth 267 CONTENTS. ix Lines Written in an Album. — Byron ... .394 Majesty of God.— Thomas Sternhold 233 Memories. — Barry Cornwall 160 My Bride that Is to Be.—/. W. Riley - 96 My Little Boy that Died.— Dinah Muloch-Craik 280 Maiden and Butterfly 31 My Angel, — Emily Huntington Miller 169 Napoleon at Kest. — John Pierpont 325 Nature's. — John G. Whittier 231 Night and Death.—/. Blanco White .269 New Poem by Lord Byron 273 Never Despair. — William C. Richards 311 "No, Not More Welcome."— Tom Jfore ..234 Never Failed Us , 224 Ode to Evening.— ir. CoZZms 293 Ode to the Lark.— /. -ffogrg ^ 165 Ode to the Brave.— TF. Collins 187 Our Own.— Mrs. M. E Sangster _ . 75 Our Infant in Heaven -.- 197 On the Death of J. R. Drake.— i^. G. Halleck 252 Over the River. — Nancie A. W. Priest -. .385 Parting 125 Patriotism— Sz> W.Scott 167 Preface - xiii Questions. — Mrs. Rebecca N. Hazard 371 Questions and Answers.— Goe^/ie. 393 Rest 63 Rock Me to Sleep, Mother.— .EJ. A. Allen (Florence Percy) 185 Rain on the Roof. — Coates Kinney .304 Revenge of Injuries. — Lady Elizabeth Carew.. 319 Sabbath Morning Thoughts.— .E/. P. Brothwell 181 Sad— A Short Tale in Short Words.— W.S.F.. 82 " Sometime, We Say, and Turn our Eyes "_ 66 Sunset with the 'Clouds 111 Song of Lightning.— Geo. W. Cutter. 115 gong on May Morning. — /. Milton 168 Song of the Pioneers. — Wm. D. Gallagher 353 Songs.— IF. Shakspere .225 Sometime.— Ifrs. Mary Riley Smith 61 X CONTENTS. Sonnet on his Blindness.— J Milton 152 Spring.— iV. P. Willis. 250 She Walks in Beauty.— ^^ron 310 Saturday Afternoon.— A^. P. Willis 331 Serenade. — Edward Coate Pinkney -- 343 The Baby.— Changed from the Scotch 270 The Bright Side.— Mrs. M. A. Kidder 47 The Mother's Charge - 46 The Soldier's Bream.— T. Campbell 45 The Two Ages.— H. S. Leigh - - 36 The Master's Touch.—//. Bonar ~ 24 The King of Denmark's Ride.— 1/rs. Norton 19 The Poet's Song. — A. Tennyson 17 The Whistler 18 The Rose.---£;. Waller 29 The Valley of Silence.— Father Ryan 64 The Blue and the Gray.— P. M. Finch 73 The Cup Bearer. — Emelie Clare - 76 The Old Church Bell.— TF. /Z". Sparks..... 80 The Brook.— ^. Teyinyson 93 The Nativity.— J". Milton 103 The Youth Who Played Before He Looked 119 The Two Villages.— /2ose Terry Cooke 120 The Lover.— a Patmore 122 The Dying Gladiator.— Lord Byron 135 The Teacher's Dream.— TF. /T. Venahle 136 The Meeting of the Waters.— Tom i)4oo?^e- 140 The Lost Chovd.— Adelaide A. Proctor -141 The Bivouac of the Dead.— T. OHara. -189 The True Voei.— From Bailey's Festus 192 The Finest English Epigram.— Pr. Doddridge 196 ''The Precious Gift of Song."— iVim Chitwood 203 The Shell.— ^. Tennyson 209 The Bndge.— Henry W. Longfellow 221 The Sabbath of the Soul.— Mrs. Barbauld 228 The Bower of Bliss— F. Spenser 229 The Free Mind : A Sonnet.— 31. L. Garrison 242 The Pride of Battery B --- 243 The Source of Happiness.— Carlos Wilcox 247 The Mysterious Music of Ocean 248 The Winged Worshippers.— C/mrZes Sprague 261 CONTENTS. Xi The Isle of the Long Ago.— S. F. Taylor 263 The Dying Wife— ^. i/. T.. 271 The Song of Steam.— 6?t3orge W. Gutter 277 The Departure of the Swallow. — Wm. Howitt 220 The Burial of Moses.— 3i?'s. C. F. Alexander 282 The Old Cottage Clock _.. 321 The Evening Cloud.— John Wilson 291 The Alpine Flowers.— 3frs. L. H. Sigouriiey 333 The Old Farm Gate.— ^itgewe /. fl^aZZ ...351 The Water Lilly. — Mrs. Hemans 359 The Destruction of Sennacherib. — Byron - 361 The Sacred Harp. — Mrs. Hemans 372 The Silent ChildiTQ^i.— Elizabeth Stuart Phelps 375 The Everlasting Memorial. — Ho7'atius Bonar -- 387 The Farewell to My Hoxm.—Tom Moore 400 The Flowers' Year -367 The Old Canoe.— Emily R. Page.. ---285 The Beautiful City.— /. W.Riley ." 68 The Touches of Her Hands.—/. W. Riley 44 The Child of aKing.—Hattie E. Buell 200 Two Views of Living. — Lord Byron ; Mrs. Barbauld - 25 To Seneca Lakei — J. C. Percival - 23 Tired. — Mrs. Helen Burnside - 32 Three Characteristic Epitaphs - - 95 Two Pictures. — Marian Douglas - 101 Till Death Us Part.— i>ea72 Stanley ■ ----107 To the Mocking Bird.— i^. IZ". Wilde 113 Two Lovers. — George Eliot 153 They Went a Fishing .-.-179 Thanatopsis.— TF. G. Bryant -254 To the Lady Anne Hamilton.— W. R. Spenser _ . . 260 There Comes a Time - -265 There Be None of Beauty's Daughters.— jB^ron- - - 306 To the Organ.— 0. P. W. ---- 309 To the Evening Wind.— TF. C. Bryant 313 Things of Beauty.— /o/i?! Keats -- 389 Through Night to Light.— A. Laighton 392 Thy Voice.— P. J5. Marston 292 Unheed Psalms 33 Under Milton's Picture.— /o7m Dry den 23G XU CONTENTS. Vital Spark of Heavenly Flame.— ri. Pope 807 Weary, Lonely, Restless, Homeless.— i^a/Zicr Ryan 38 Who Has Robbed the Ocean Cave 1—John Shaiv 99 " When to the Sessions."— W, Shakspere 188 Woman.— j&. aS. Barret. _ 199 Which Shall It Be?— ^. A. Allen 204 "When the Song's Gone" 218 Woman's Voice. — Edtvin Arnold ._ 237 We Shall Know.—^nnze Herbert .-. 239 We Have Seen His Star .370 Who Will Care? .268 What is Noble ?~Charles Swain 317 Wyoming. — Fitz-Qreene Halleck. 344 With the Stream 303 You Remember It, Don't You?— Thos. H. Bayley .318 LIST OF AUTHORS, Alexander 282 Allen - 204 Allerton -- 26 Arnold-...--- 237 Bailey--- .- 192-318 Barbauld--- ---- 25-228 Barret- 199 ^Bonar ....24-387 Brainard 161 Brock 207 Browning - 133 Brothwell 181 Bryant 213.254 Buell 200 Burnside 32 Burton 67 Byron-- 135-273-306-310-324-327 335-347-361-394. Campbell 45 Carew - 319 Chitwood 203 Clare - 76 Collins 187-293 Cooke- 120 Cornwall.-- 160 Craik 280 Cutter. 115-277 Canningham- - 40 Doddridge - 196 Dommett 368 Douglass 101 Dryden .-. 236 Eliot. Finck 73 Ford 211-242 Gallagher 353 Garrison -. 242 Gates -. 235 Goethe _. 393 Gray 55 Graves - 246 Grant 85 Hall . 351 Halleck 102-252-344 Herbert 239 Hemans 357-359-363-372 Houston 172 Howitt 220 Hazard 371 Hogg 165 Hunt 28 Johnson 330 Keble - iii.70 Keats 379-389 Kemble 87 Kidder 47. Kinney.. 304 Kingsley 342 Krout 51 "Kit"-. _.-. Laighton 392 Leigh -. 36 Longfellow--- 221 Lytle 287 153 Marston. [xiii.) 292 LIST OF AUTHORS. Miller 169-216 Hilton 103-143-152-168-27-» Moore 78-140-234-400 Newman 35 Norton 19-149 O'Hara 189 Page 285 Patmore 122 Peabody 315 Percy -.. 185 Percival 23 Pinkney _ 343 Pierpont 325 Pope _ 159-307 Plielps _ 375 Priest 385 Proctor - _ I4j^ Richards 311 Riley 68-96 Rogers 266 Ryan 38 Sangster 75 Scott 167 Sears 339 --. 178-188-195-225 Shaw--- 99 Sherwood 378 Shelly- 114 Sigourney - 333 Snowe -.. 296 Spenser 229-260 Sprague 261 Swain 317 Sparks - 80 Stanley 107 Sternhold 233 Steele 130 Taylor 263 TennysQn - - 17-93-177-209 Thompson 289-365 "Una" 211 Waller 29 Whittier. 231 White 269 Willis 331-258 Wilcox - 247 Wilson 291 Wordsworth 267 Wilde 113 Venable ^ 136 ILLUSTRATIONS. Bay of Naples ..-feontispiece. *' On Thy Fair Bosom Waveless Stream" 22 "Touch us Gently, Time" - -- 42 " No Children Eun to Lisp their Sire's Return" 54 "No More Shall the War Cry Sever"...- 72 The First Reporter 92 " A Shadowy Landscape Dipped in Grold" 110 " As a Reed with the Reeds of the River" .132 Bingen on the Rhine 148 Musical Cherub Soar Singing Away - 164 Minnehaha Falls. "And the Cataract Leaps in Glory" 176 Mother Come Back from the Echoless Shore - - 184 Prairie Songsters 202 "LightonThy Hills, Jerusalem!" 338 The Old Farm Gate --350 " Awe-struck the Silent Children Hear 374 (XV.) GEMS OF POETRY, THE POET'S SONa A. TENNYSON. HE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He passed by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, ■ And waves of shadow went over the wheat. And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody low and sweet, That made the wild swan pause in her cloud. And the lark drop down at his feet. The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee. The snake slipt under a spray, The wild hawk stood ^vith the down on his beak. And stared with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, " I have sung many songs. But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be "When the years have died away." THE WHISTLER. "You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart who stood, While he sat on a corn- sheaf at dayhght's decline — " You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood; I wish that Danish boy's whistle was mine." " And what would you do with it? Tell me," she said, While an arch smile played over her beautiful face, " I would blow it," he answered, " and then my fair maid Would fly to my side and there take her place." " Is that all you wish for? That may be yours Without any magic," the fair maiden cried ; " A favor so light, one's good nature secures," And she playfully seated herself by his side. " I would blow it again," said the youth, " and a charm Would work so that not even modesty's cheek Would be able to keep from my neck your fine arm ! " She smiled as she laid her fair arm 'round his neck. " Yet once more would I blow, and the magic divine Would bring me a third time an exquisite bliss — You would lay your fair cheek to this brown one of mine, And your lips stealing past would give me a kiss." The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee^ " What a fool of yourself with a whistle you'd makej For only consider how silly 'twould be To sit there and whistle for — what you might take." 18 — Northwestern Agriculturis.t- THE KING OF DENMAKK'S RIDE. MRS. NORTON. ORD was brought to the Danish king (Hurry !) That the love of his heart lay suffering And pined for the comfort his voice would bring; (O ride as though you were flying!) Better he loves each golden curl On the brow of that Scandinavian girl Than his rich crown -jew els of ruby and pearl: And his Rose of the Isles is dying! Thirty nobles saddled with speed! (Hurry!) Each one mounting a gallant steed Which he kept for battle and days of need; (O ride as though you were flying!) Spurs were struck in the foaming flank: "Worn-out chargers staggered and sank; Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst; But ride as they Avould, the King rode first, For his rose of the Isles lay dying! His nobles are beaten, one by one; (Hurry!) They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; His little fair page now follows alone, For strength and for courage trying! The king looked back at that faithful child; 19 20 GEMS OF POETRY. Wan was the face that answering smiled; They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, Then he dropped; and only the King rode in Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying! The King blew a blast on his bugle horn; (Silence!) No answer came; but faint and forlorn An echo returned on the cold gray morn, Like the breath of a spirit sighing. The castle portal stood grimly wide; None welcomed the King from that weary ride; For dead, in the light of the dawning day, The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay, Who had yearned for his voice while dying! The panting steed, with a drooping crest, Stood weary. The King returned from her chamber of rest, The thick sobs choking in his breast; And, that dumb companion eying, The tears gushed forth which he strove to check; He bowed his head on his charger's neck: " O steed, that every nerve didst strain, Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain To the halls where my love lay dying! " " On thy fair bosom, waveless stream." TO SENECA LAKE. J. G, PERCIVAL. N thy fair bosom, silver lake, The wild swan spreads his snowy sail, And round his breast the ripples break. As down he b?ars before the gale. On thy fair bosom, waveless stream. The dipping paddle echoes far. And flashes in the moonlight gleam, And bright reflects the polar star. The waves along thy pebbly shore, As blows the north wind, heave their foam^ And curl around the dashing oar. As late the boatman hies him home. How sweet, at set of sun, to view Thy golden mirror spreading wide. And see the mist of mantling blue Float round the distant mountain's side ! At midnight hour, as shines the moon, A sheet of silver spreads below, And swift she cuts, at highest noon, Light clouds, like wreaths of purest snow. On thy fair bosom, silver lake, O, I could ever sweep the oar. When early birds at morning wake, And evening tells us toil is o'er ! 23 THE MASTER'S TOUCH. H. BONAK; N the still air the music lies unheard; In the rough marble beauty hides unseen: To make the music and the beauty, needs The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen. Great Master, touch us with thy skillful hand; Let not the music that is in us die ! Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let, Hidden and lost, thy form within us lie! Spare not the stroke ! do with us as thou wilt! Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred ; Complete thy purpose, that we may become Thy perfect image, thou our God and Lord ! 24 TWO VIEWS OF LIVING. My life is in the sere and 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; No torch is lighted at its blaze — A funeral pile. — Lord Byi'on. Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me's a secret yet. Life! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine ow.n time, Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning. — Mrs. Barhauld. V^^ tVl/ BEAUTIFUL THINGS. ELLEN P. ALLERTON. EAUTIFUL faces are those that wear, It matters little if dark or fair — Wholesoulecl honesty printed there. Beautiful eyes are those that show, Like crystal panes where hearthfires glow. Beautiful thoughts that burn below. Beautiful lips are those whose words Leap from the heart like songs of birds, Yet whose utterance prudence girds. Beautiful hands are those that do Work that is earnest and brave and true, Moment by moment the long day through. Beautiful feet are those that go On kindly ministries to and fro, Down lowliest ways if God wills it so. Beautiful shoulders are those that bear Ceaseless burdens of homely care, With patient grace and daily prayer. Beautiful lives are those that bless. Silent rivers of happiness. Whose hidden fountains but few can guess. Beautiful things. 27 Beautiful twilight, at set of sun ; Beautiful goal, with race well run ; Beautiful rest, with work well done. Beautiful graves, where grasses creep, Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie deep Over worn-out hands ; oh, beautiful sleep ! AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. L. HUNT. OW sweet it were, if without feeble fright, Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight, An angel came to us, and we could bear To see him issue fi'om the silent air At evening in our room, and bend on ours His divine eyes, and bring us from his bowers News of dear friends, and childi'en who have never Been dead indeed, —as we shall know forever. Alas! wo think not what we daily see About our hearths, angels, that are to be, Or may be if they will, and we prepare Their souls and ours to meet in happy air, — A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart sings In unison with ours, breeding? its future wings. o ^i^^^'^^. THE EOSE. E. WALLER. Go, lovely rose I Tell her that wastes her tirae on me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her gi'aces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. 30 GEMS OF POETRY. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired, Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired. And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she, The common fate of all things raie May read in thee. How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair. [A lady of Cambridge, England, loaned Waller's poems to H. K. White, who added the following stanza to the above poem; thus illustrating the difference between earthly and heavenly inspiration:) " Yet, though thou fade, From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise; And teach the maid That goodness Time's rude hand defies; That Virtue lives when Beauty dies." ;m)^ f" m \ D ^ mi ^^ MAIDEN AND BUTTEEFLY. Within the sun-flecked shadows of a forest glade, Seeking for wildwood flowers, a little maid Sang to her happy heart, as to and fro She wandered 'mid the swaying grasses lovf ; When suddenly a brilliant butterfly Flashed, like a jewel in the sunshine, by And, darting swiftly now that way, now this, Alighted on her lips and stole a kiss. "Forgive me, sweet!" he cried. "I swear to you, I only meant to spy a drop of dew From out the fragrant chaWce of these roses bright, But, hovering undecided where to 'light, I saw your lily- face uplifted here. And thought your red, red lips were rosebuds, dear I" Tossing her sunny curls, she raised her head. As, with an air of queenly grace, she said: " This once I will forgive ; but, pray, beware 31 32 GEMS OF POETRY. How often you mistake for blossoms rare A maiden's lips ! " She watched him flutter near. " To think mine, roses, you are welcome, dear. But," with a merry glance, half arch, half shy, " They do not bloom for every butterfly! " "TIRED. MISS HELEN BUKNSIDE. "Tired!" Oh yes! so tired, dear. The day has been very long; But shadowy gloaming draweth near, 'Tis time for the even song, I'm ready to go to rest at last, Ready to say " Good night:" The sunset glory darkens fast, To-morrow will bring me light. It has seemed so long since morning-tide. And I have been left so lone, Young smiling faces thronged my side, When the early sunlight shone; But they grew tired long ago. And I saw them sink to rest, With folded hands and brows of snow, On the green earth's mother breast. Sing once again, " Abide with me," That sweetest evening hymn ; And now " Good' night!" I cannot see, The light has grown so dim ; "Tired!" Ah, yes, so tired, dear, I shall soundly sleep to-night. With never a dream, and never a fear To wake in the morning light. UNHEEDED PSALMS. God hath His sohtudes, unpeopled yet, Save by the peaceful life of bird and flower, Where, since the world's foundation, He hath set The hiding of His power. Year nfter year His rains make fresh and green Lone wastes of prairies, where, as daylight goes Legions of bright-hued blossoms all unseen Their carven petals close. Year after year unnumbered forest leaves Expand and darken to their perfect prime; Each smallest growth its destiny achieves In His appointed time. Amid the strong recesses of the hills, Fixed by His word, immutable and calm, The murmuring river all the silence fills With its unheeded psalm. From deep to deep the floods lift up their voice, Because His hand hath measured them of old; The far outgoings of the morn rejoice His wonders to unfold. 34 GEMS OF POETEY. The smallest cloudlet Avrecked in distant storms, That wanders homeless through the summer skies, Is reckoned in His purposes, and forms One of His argosies. Where the perpetual mountains patient wait, Girded with purity before His throne, Keeping from age to age inviolate Their everlasting crown; Where the long- gathering waves of ocean break With ceaseless music o'er untrodden strands. From isles that day by day in silence wake. From earth's remotest lands. The anthem of His praise shall uttered be; All works created on His name shall call. And laud, and bless His holy name, for He Hath pleasure in them all. IM^ ^=^ o §^^ LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT. J. n. NEWMAN. Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on. Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead Thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years' So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone. And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile Meanwhile, along the narrow, rugged path Thyself hast trod. Lead, Savior, lead me home in childlike faith, Home to my God, To rest forever after earthly strife. In the calm light of everlasting life. 35 THE TWO AGES. H. S. LEIGH. Folks were happy as days were long, In the old Arcadian times: When life seemed only a dance and song . In the sweetest of all sweet climes. Our world grows bigger, and stage by stage, As the pitiless years have rolled. We've quite forgotten the Golden Age, And come to the Age of Gold. Time went by in a sheepish way Upon Thessaly's plains of yore. In the nineteenth century lambs at play Mean mutton, and nothing more. Our swains at present are far too sage To live as one lived of old: So they couple the crook of the Golden Age With a hook in the Age of Gold. From Corydon's reed the mountains round Heard news of his latest flame; And Tityrus made the woods resound With echoes of Daphne's name. They kindly left us a lasting guage Of their musical art, we're told: GEMS OF POETRY. 37 And the Pandean pipe of the Golden Ago Brings mirth to the Age of Gold. Dwellers in huts and in marble hall — From shepherdess up to queen — Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawl, And nothing for crinoline. But now simplicity's not the rage, And it's funny to think how cold The dress they wore in the Golden Age Would seem in the Age of Gold. Electric telegraphs, printing, gas, Telephones, balloons and steam. Are little events that have come to pass Since the days of the old regime; And in spite of Lempriere's dazzling page, I'd give — though it might seem bold — A hundred years of the Golden Age For a year of the Age of Gold. WEARY. LONELY, RESTLESS, HOMELESS. FATHEE EYAN. Weary hearts ! weary hearts ! by cares of life oppressed, Ye are wandering in the shadows, ye are sighing for the rest; There is darkness in the heavens, and the earth is bleak below, And the joys we taste to-day may to-morrow turn to woe. Weary hearts! God is rest. Lonely hearts! lonely hearts! 'tis but a land of grief; Ye are pining for repose, ye are longing for relief; What the world hath never given, kneel and ask of God above, And your grief shall turn to gladness if you lean upon His love. Lonely hearts ! God is love. Restless hearts! restless hearts! ye are toiling night and day. And the flowers of life, all withered, leave but thorns along your way; Ye are waiting, ye are waiting till your toilings here shall cease, And your ever-restless throbbing is a sad, sad prayer for peace. Restless hearts! God is peace. WEARY, LONELY, RESTLESS, HOMELESS. 39 Broken hearts ! broken hearts ! ye are desolate and lone. And low voices from the past o'er your present ruins moan; In the sweetest of your pleasures there was bitterest alloy, And a starless night hath followed on the sunset of your joy- Broken hearts! God is joy. Homeless hearts! homeless hearts! through the dreary, dreary years. Ye are lonely, lonely wanderers, and your way is wet with tears ; In bright or blighted places, wheresoever ye may roam, Ye look away from earthland, and ye murmur, " Where is Home?" Homeless hearts! God is home. A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. A. CUNNINGHAM. W^ET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling- sail, And bends the gallant mast, — And bends the gallant mast, my boys, AVhile,like the eagle free. Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old Eno-land on our lee. O for a soft and gentle wind ! I heard a fair one cry ; But give to me the swelling breeze, And white waves heaving high, — The while waves heaving high, my lads. The good ship tight and free ; The world of waters is our home, And merry men are w^e. There's a tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; And hark! the music, mariners, The wind is wak'ning loud,— The wind is wak'ning loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free ; The hollow oak our palace is, Our heritaofe the sea. A PETITION TO TIME. B. CORNWALL. Tonch US gently. Time ! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,— as we sometimes glide , Through a quiet di'eam ! Humble voyagers are we, Husband, wife, and children three, — (One is lost,-an angel fled To the azure overhead !) Touch us gently, Time ! We've not proud nor so ring vving»; Our ambition, our conte?it, Lies in simple things. Humble voyagers are we. O'er life's dim, unsounded ^en, Seeking only some calm climo : — Touch us gently, gentle Time ! THE TOUCHES OF HER HANDS J. W. RILEY. ^^^^^g^-'l HE touches of her hands are hke +he fall Of velvet snowdakes ; like the touch of Jo\^ n The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall ; The flossy fondlings of the thistle wisp Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown The blighting frost has turned from green, 'x crisp. Soft as the falling of the dusk at night. The touches of her hands, and the delight — The touches of her nands ! The touches of her hands are like the dew That falls so softly down no one e'er knew The touch thereof save to lovers like to one Astray in lights where ranged Endymion. Oh, rarely soft, the touches of her hands, As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands ; Or pulse of dying fay ; or fairy sighs ; Or — in between the midnight and the dawn, When long unrest and tears and fears are gone — Sleep, smoothing down the lids of weary eyee, THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. T. CAMPBELL. Our bugles sang truce,- -for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground over-power'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf -scaring fagot that guarded the slain; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw. And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft. And knew the sweet strain that the corn -reapers sung. Then -pledged we the wine- cup, and fondly I swore. From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er. And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fullness of heart. GEMS OF POETRY. "Stay, stay with us, — rest, tlion art weary and worn;" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; — But sorrow return' d with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreamin