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POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS

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so humble: there's place like home! A charm from the sky

hallow as there
which, seek through the world, is neler met with elsewhere?

:
Home, home,

sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like hone! there's no place like home!

Soho Stoward Fayne./
We Shine is led me awhined fibiff,
One ship che tue were will miss;
Put God wice kurus aluila auker. Fling

Au sud his angels out with this

Be it

ever

seens

W

Home Sweet Stome ! Mid plasures and palaceo shough may

(HELEN HUNT JACKSON.)

6.8

POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS.

FRIENDSHIP.

BENEDICITE.

God's love and peace be with thee, where
Soe'er this soft autumnal air
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair !

Whether through city casements comes
Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms,
Or, out among the woodland blooms,

It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face, Imparting, in its glad embrace, Beauty to beauty, grace to grace !

Fair Nature's book together read,
The old wood-paths that knew our tread,
The maple shadows overhead, -

The hills we climbed, the river seen
By gleams along its deep ravine,
All keep thy memory fresh and green.

Where'er I look, where'er I stray,
Thy thought goes with me on my way,
And hence the prayer I breathe to-day :

O'er lapse of time and change of scene, The weary waste which lies between Thyself and me, my heart I lean.

Thou lack'st not Friendship’s spellword, nor
The half-unconscious power to draw
All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law.

With these good gifts of God is cast Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast To hold the blessed angels fast.

If, then, a fervent wish for thee
The gracious heavens will heed from me,
What should, dear heart, its burden be?

God's love, - unchanging, pure, and true, The Paraclete white-shining through

the fall of Hermon's dew!

His peace,

With such a prayer, on this sweet day,
As thou mayst hear and I may say,
I greet thee, dearest, far away !

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

EARLY FRIENDSHIP.

The half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went;
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wanderings through forbidden ways;
The vague, but manly wish to tread the inaze
Of life to noble ends, — whereon intent,
Asking to know for what man here is sent,
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze;
The firın resolve to seek the chosen end
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature,
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend
With strength no selfish purpose can secure :
My happy lot is this, that all attend
That friendship which first came, and which shall

last endure.

AUBREY DE VERE.

FRIENDSHIP.

FROM "HAMLET," ACT 111. SC. 2.

HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.

Hor. O my dear lord -
НАМ.

Nay, do not think I flatter :
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That po revènne hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor

be flattered? No, let the candlied tongue liek absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou

heal

The sighing of a shaken reed, — What can I more than meekly plead The greatness of our common need?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Haet ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are

those
Whose blood and judgment are so wellco-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please : Give me that

man

BILL AND JOE.

Come, dear old comrade, you and I
Will steal an hour from days gone by,
The shining days when life was new,
And all was bright as morning dew,
The lusty days of long ago,
When you were Bill and I was Joe.

That is not passion's siave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

Your name may flaunt a titled trail,
Prond as a cockerel's rainbow tail ;
And mine as brief appendix wear
As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare;
To-day, old friend, remember still
That I am Joe and you are Bill.

SHAKESPEARE.

You 've won the great world's envied prize,
And grand you look in people's eyes,
With H O N. and L L. D.
In big brave letters, fair to see,
Your fist, old fellow ! off they go!
How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe ?

FRIENDSHIP.
A RUDDY drop of manly blood
The surging sea outweighs ;
The world uncertain comes and goes,
The lover rooted stays.
I fancied he was fled,
And, after many a year,
Glowed unexhausted kindliness,
Like daily sunrise there.
My careful heart was free again ;
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched,
Through thee the rose is red;
All things through thee take nobler form,
And look beyond the earth ;
The mill-round of our fate appears
A sun-path in thy worth.
Me too thy nobleness has taught
To master my despair;
The fountains of my hidden life
Are through thy friendship fair.

You've worn the judge's ernined robe;
You've taught your naine to half the globe;
You've sung mankind a deathless strain;
You've made the dead past live again :
The world may call you what it will,
But you and I are Joe anu Bill.

The chaffing young folks stare and say,
“See those olil buffers, bent and gray ;
They talk like fellows in their teens!

olil boys ! That's what it means, And shake their heads; they little know The throobing hearts of Bill and Joe!

Mad, poor

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

How Bill forgets his hour of pride,
While Joe sits smiling at his side ;
How Joe, in spite of time's disgnise,
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes,
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.

THE MEMORY OF THE HEART.

IF stores of dry and learned lore we gain,
We keep them in the memory of the brain ;
Names, things, and facts, -- whate'er we knowl.

edge call, -
There is the common ledger for them all;
And images on this cold surface traced
Make slight impression, and are soon effaced.
But we've a page, more glowing anıl more bright,
On which our friendship and our love to write ;
That these may never from the soul depart,
We trust them to the memory of the heart.
There is no dimming, no effacement there;
Each new pulsation keeps the record clear;
Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill,
Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still.

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fick le gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust :
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust wis Bill, and which was Joe?

The weary idol takes his stand,
Holds out his bruised and aching hand,
While gaping thousands come and go,
How vain it seems, this empty show !
Till all at once his pulses thrill,
”T is poor old Joe's “God bless you, Bill :"

DANIEL WEBSTER

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And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The naines that pleased our mortal ears,
In some sweet lull of harp and song,
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whispering of the world below,
Where this was Bill, and that was Joe?

No matter ; while our home is here
No sounding name is half so dear;
When fades at length our lingering day,
Who cares what pompous tombstones say?
Read on the hearts that love us still,
Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

DREAMS AND REALITIES.

O ROSAMOND, thou fair and good
And perfect flower of womanhood !

Thon royal rose of June !
Why didst thou droop before thy time?
Why wither in the first sweet prime ?

Why didst thou die so soon?

For, looking backward through my tear3
On thee, and on my wasted years,

I cannot choose but say,
If thou hudst lived to be my guide,
Or thou hadst lived and I had died,

'T were better far to-day.

O child of light, 0 golden head !--
Bright sunbeam for one moment shed

Upon life's lonely way,
Why didst thou vanish from our sight?
Could they not spare my little light

From heaven's unclouded day?

O friend so true, O friend so good!
Thou one dream of my maidenhood,

That gave youth all its charms,
What had I done, or what hadst thou,
That, through this lonesome world till now,

We walk with empty arms ?

And yet had this poor soul been fed
With all it loved and coveted ;

Had life been always fair,
Would these dear dreams that ne'er depart,
That thrill with bliss my inmost heart,

Forever tremble there?

If still they kept their earthly place,
The friends I held in my embrace,

And gave to death, alas !
Could I have learned that clear, calm faith
That looks beyond the bonds of death,

And almost longs to pass ?

But this it was that made me move

As light as carrier-birds in air ;

I loved the weight I had to bear Because it needed help of Love :

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