Page images
PDF
EPUB

THE HELIOTROPE.

SOMEWHERE 'tis told that in an Eastern land,

Clasped in the dull palm of a mummy's hand,

A few light seeds were found; with wondering eyes

And words of awe was lifted up the prize.

And much they marvelled what could be so dear

Of herb or flower as to be treasured here;

What sacred vow had made the dying keep

So close this token for his last, long sleep.

None ever knew, but in the fresh, warm earth

The cherished seeds sprang to a second birth,

[blocks in formation]

CHARLES MACKAY.

THE CHILD AND THE MOURNERS. | For she, but few sad days before,

A LITTLE child, beneath a tree,
Sat and chanted cheerily

A little song, a pleasant song,
Which was, she sang it all day
long,

"When the wind blows the blossoms fall,

But a good God reigns over all!"

There passed a lady by the way,
Moaning in the face of day:
There were tears upon her cheek,
Grief in her heart too great to speak;
Her husband died but yester-morn,
And left her in the world forlorn.

She stopped and listened to the child. That look'd to Heaven, and, singing, smiled;

And saw not, for her own despair,
Another lady, young and fair,
Who, also passing, stopped to hear
The infant's anthem ringing clear.

Had lost the little babe she bore;
And grief was heavy at her soul,
As that sweet memory o'er her stole,
And showed how bright had been the
past,

The present drear and overcast.

And as they stood beneath the tree,
Listening, soothed, and placidly,
A youth came by, whose sunken eyes,
Spake of a load of miseries;
And he, arrested like the twain,
Stopped to listen to the strain.

Death had bowed the youthful head
Of his bride beloved, his bride unwed:
Her marriage robes were fitted on,
Her fair young face with blushes
shone,

When the Destroyer smote her low, And left the lover to his woe.

And these three listened to the song Silver-toned, and sweet, and strong,

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,
And flourish all the stronger;
And Charity shall trim her lamp; -
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:
And a poor man's family
Shall not be his misery

In the good time coming.
Every child shall be a help,

To make his right arm stronger;
The happier he, the more he has;-
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:
Little children shall not toil,
Under or above the soil,

In the good time coming;
But shall play in healthful fields

Till limbs and mind grow stronger; And every one shall read and write;Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:
The people shall be temperate,
And shall love instead of hate,

In the good time coming.
They shall use, and not abuse,

And make all virtue stronger. The reformation has begun; Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:
Let us aid it all we can,
Every woman, every man,

The good time coming.
Smallest helps, if rightly given,
Make the impulse stronger;
"Twill be strong enough one day;—
Wait a little longer.

THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW. LATE or early, home returning, In the starlight or the rain, I beheld that lonely candle Shining from his window-pane.

1

[blocks in formation]

Death hath beckoned him away, Ere the sentence he had planned Found completion at his hand.

But this man so old and nameless
Left behind him projects large,
Schemes of progress undeveloped,
Worthy of a nation's charge;
Noble fancies uncompleted,
Germs of beauty immatured,
Only needing
Kindly feeding

To have flourished and endured;
Meet reward in golden store
To have lived for evermore.

Who shall tell what schemes majestic
Perish in the active brain?
What humanity is robbed of,
Ne'er to be restored again?

What we lose, because we honor
Overmuch the mighty dead,
And dispirit

[blocks in formation]

OYE tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,

Ye are welcome to my heart thawing, thawing, like the snow;

I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snowdrops spring, And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.

O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run:

Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun. The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,

And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.

O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek.

I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stub born, I was weak.

Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,

And know that I am human by the

light of sympathy.

O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain;

The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again: Like the rock that Moses smote, amid Horeb's burning sand, It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.

EXTRACT FROM “A REVERIE IN THE GRASS.”

On, beautiful green grass! Earthcovering fair!

What shall be sung of thee, nor bright,

nor rare,

Nor highly thought of? Long green grass that waves

By the wayside, over the ancient

graves,

Or shoulders of the mountain looming high,

[esty, Or skulls of rocks, bald in their maj

There is light upon my path, there is Except for thee, that in the crevices Liv'st on the nurture of the sun and breeze;

sunshine in my heart,

And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart;

Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago—

O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow!

A QUESTION ANSWERED. WHAT to do to make thy fame

Live beyond thee in the tomb? And thine honorable name

Shine, a star, through history's gloom?

Seize the Spirit of thy Time,

Take the measure of his height, Look into his eyes sublime,

And imbue thee with their light. Know his words ere they are spoken, And with utterance loud and clear, Firm, persuasive, and unbroken,

Breathe them in the people's ear.

Think whate'er the Spirit thinks,
Feel thyself whate'er he feels,
Drink at fountains where he drinks,
And reveal what he reveals.

And whate'er thy medium be,
Canvas, stone, or printed sheet,
Fiction, or philosophy,

Or a ballad for the street;

Or. perchance, with passion fraught, Spoken words, like lightnings thrown,

Tell the people all thy thought,

And the world shall be thine own!

Adorner of the nude rude breast of hills,

Mantle of meadows, fringe of gushing rills,

Humblest of all the humble, thou shalt be,

If to none else, exalted unto me, And for a time, a type of joy on

earth

Joy unobtrusive, of perennial birth, Common as light and air, and warmth and rain,

And all the daily blessings that in vain Woo us to gratitude: the earliest born Of all the juicy verdures that adorn The fruitful bosom of the kindly soil; Pleasant to eyes that ache and limbs that toil.

Lo! as I muse, I see the bristling spears

Of thy seed-bearing stalks, which some, thy peers, [fro Lift o'er their fellows, nodding to and Their lofty foreheads as the wild winds blow,

And think thy swarming multitudes a host,

Drawn up embattled on their native coast,

And officered for war:-the spearmen free

Raising their weapons, and the martial bee

Blowing his clarion, while some popPy tall

Displays the blood-red banner over all.

« EelmineJätka »