« VorigeDoorgaan »
so humble: there's place like home! A charm from the sky
hallow as there
sweet, sweet home!
Soho Stoward Fayne./
Au sud his angels out with this
Home Sweet Stome ! Mid plasures and palaceo shough may
(HELEN HUNT JACKSON.)
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS.
God's love and peace be with thee, where
Whether through city casements comes
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 hills we climbed, the river seen
Where'er I look, where'er I stray,
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
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
God's love, - unchanging, pure, and true, The Paraclete white-shining through
the fall of Hermon's dew!
With such a prayer, on this sweet day,
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
The half-seen memories of childish days,
AUBREY DE VERE.
FROM "HAMLET," ACT 111. SC. 2.
HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
Hor. O my dear lord -
Nay, do not think I flatter :
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
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,
BILL AND JOE.
Come, dear old comrade, you and I
That is not passion's siave, and I will wear him
Your name may flaunt a titled trail,
You 've won the great world's envied prize,
You've worn the judge's ernined robe;
The chaffing young folks stare and say,
olil boys ! That's what it means, And shake their heads; they little know The throobing hearts of Bill and Joe!
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
How Bill forgets his hour of pride,
THE MEMORY OF THE HEART.
IF stores of dry and learned lore we gain,
edge call, -
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ?
The weary idol takes his stand,
And shall we breathe in happier spheres
No matter ; while our home is here
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
DREAMS AND REALITIES.
O ROSAMOND, thou fair and good
Thon royal rose of June !
Why didst thou die so soon?
For, looking backward through my tear3
I cannot choose but say,
'T were better far to-day.
O child of light, 0 golden head !--
Upon life's lonely way,
From heaven's unclouded day?
O friend so true, O friend so good!
That gave youth all its charms,
We walk with empty arms ?
And yet had this poor soul been fed
Had life been always fair,
Forever tremble there?
If still they kept their earthly place,
And gave to death, alas !
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 :