DESPONDENCY. The thoughts that rain their steady glow Which others know, or say they know— Thoughts light, like gleams, my spirit's sky, ANON. TIME. Time has laid his hand Upon my head gently, not smiting it, MOONRISE. LONGFELLOW. A mighty purpose rises large and slow ALEXANDER SMITH. THE LOT OF LOVE. Oh! was there ever tale of human love, THE HAUNTED PALACE. By EDGAR A. POE. In the greenest of our valleys In the monarch Thought's dominion- VOL. V. Never seraph spread a pinion Banners yellow, glorious, golden, And every gentle air that dallied, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows, saw To a lute's well tuned law, In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen. And all with pearl and ruby glowing Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. But evil things, in robes of sorrow, And round about his home the glory And travellers, now, within that valley, A hideous throng rush out for ever GOVERN YOUR TEMPER. By CHARLES SWAIN. Он, govern your temper! for music the sweetest One tithe of the time which to music we yield, Oh, govern your temper! for roses the fairest Were never so fair, nor so rich in perfume, As the flowers which e'en thou, chilly Winter, yet sparest, The flowers of the heart, which unchangingly bloom! Never say it is nature, for oh, if it were, The sooner the spirit of nature is shown That the spirit of heaven is higher than her, The sooner the longer-will love be our own. THE MOTHER'S BROKEN IDOL. By GERALD MASSEY. ALL in a marriage garden Grew smiling up to God, A bonnier flower than ever Suck'd the green warmth of the sod. O beautiful unfathomably Its little life unfurl'd, Life's crown of sweetness was our wee From out a gracious bosom Two flowers of glorious crimson I' the wind of life they danced with glee, With mystical faint fragrance, Upon the petals of our wee White Rose of all the world.. But evermore the halo Of angel-light increased, Like the mystery of Moonlight Snow-white, snow-frost, snow-silently, And dropt i' the grave-God's lap-our wee Our Rose was but in blossom- With holy dews impearl'd;" You scarce could think so small a thing Her little light such shadow fling In other springs our life may be In banner'd bloom unfurl'd; CONSOLATION. A passage from a poem found in a recently published volume, entitled First Fruits, by E. H. R. There is true poetry in it. THE torrent of the world is rough and strong, I cannot sing a truth-inspiring song If none on earth will listen. The angel answer'd: Wherefore dost thou sigh? The meanest blossom may not, cannot die Before its work be done. The prayer-bells in thy heart should summon still And not like yonder church upon the hill, Only on Sunday morning. |