ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY. SONG OF A FELLOW-WORKER. I FOUND a fellow-worker when I deemed I toiled alone: My toil was fashioning thought and sound, and his was hewing stone; I worked in the palace of my brain, he in the common street; And it seemed his toil was great and hard, while mine was great and sweet. I said, "O fellow-worker, yea, for I am a worker too, The heart nigh fails me many a day, but how is it with you? "I carve the marble of pure thought until the thought takes form, Then he replied: "Ere sunrise, when the pale lips of the day A great thought rose within me, how, while men asleep had lain, The thousand labors of the world had grown up once again. "The sun grew on the world, and on my soul the thought grew too, A great appalling sun, to light my soul the long day through. I felt the world's whole burden for a moment, then began With man's gigantic strength to do the labor of one man. "I went forth hastily, and lo! I met a hundred men, "Each passed me with a dauntless look, and my undaunted eyes "They passed me, having faith in me, and in our several ways, I felt their mighty hands at work, and, as the days wore through, 66 Perhaps they felt, as with those hands they lifted mightily "And so we toil together many a day from morn till night, "And 't is not wholly mine or theirs, I think of through the day, Made fair with all their nobler toil, built of my common stones. "Then noonward, as the task grows light with all the labor done, "But when the evening comes, indeed, the words have taken wing, THOMAS PARNELL. HYMN TO CONTENTMENT. LOVELY, lasting Peace of mind! Sweet delight of human kind! Heavenly-born, and bred on high, To crown the favorites of the sky With more of happiness below, Than victors in a triumph know! Whither, O whither art thou fled, To lay thy meek, contented head? What happy region dost thou please To make the seat of calms and ease? Ambition searches all its sphere Of pomp and state, to meet thee there. Increasing avarice would find Thy presence in its gold enshrined. The bold adventurer ploughs his way Through rocks amidst the foaming sea To gain thy love; and then perceives Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. The silent heart, which grief assails, Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales, Sees daisies open, rivers run, And seeks (as I have vainly done) Lovely, lasting Peace, appear! The branches whisper as they waved; It seemed as all the quiet place Confessed the presence of her grace. When thus she spoke - "Go rule thy will, Bid thy wild passions all be still, Know God and bring thy heart to know The joys which from religion flow: Then every grace shall prove its guest, And I'll be there to crown the rest. Oh! by yonder mossy seat, In my hours of sweet retreat, Might I thus my soul employ With sense of gratitude and joy: Raised as ancient prophets were, In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer; Pleasing all men, hurting none, With all the colors of delight; The sun that walks his airy way, To light the world, and give the day: The moon that shines with borrowed THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS. HUDSON RIVER. RIVERS that roll most musical in song When, to give substance to his boyish dreams, He leaves his own, far countries to survey, Oft must he think, in greeting foreign streams, "Their names alone are beautiful, not they." If chance he mark the dwindled Arno pour A tide more meagre than his native Charles; Or views the Rhone when summer's heat is o'er, Subdued and stagnant in the fen of Arles: Or when he sees the slimy Tiber fling His sullen tribute at the feet of Rome, Oft to his thought must partial memory bring More noble waves, without renown, at home. Now let him climb the Catskill, to behold Had such a river to inspire his strain. Along the Rhine gray battlements and towers No storied castle overawes these heights; No Gothic buttress, or decaying shaft Of marble, yellowed by a thousand years, Lifts a great landmark to the little craft, A summer cloud: that comes and disappears. But cliffs, unaltered from their primal form Farms, rich not more in meadows than in men |