120 THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. But some were sad and felt no mirth, In sounds that sang, Farewell, farewell, Farewell, farewell, fair Ines; The smile that blest one lover's heart THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. MRS. HEMANS. THEY grew in beauty side by side, They filled one home with glee; The same fond mother bent at night THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. 121 One, midst the forest of the west, By a dark stream is laid The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one One sleeps where southern vines are drest He wrapt his colors round his breast And one — o'er her the myrtle showers Its leaves, by soft winds fanned; She faded midst Italian flowers, And parted thus they rest, who played They that with smiles lit up the hall, Alas! for love, if thou wert all, And naught beyond, O earth! 122 THE BEAUTIFUL. THE BEAUTIFUL. BURRINGTON. WALK with the Beautiful and with the Grand; I hear thee say, "The Beautiful! What is it?" O, thou art darkly ignorant! Be sure 'Tis no long, weary road its form to visit; For thou canst make it smile beside thy door: Then love the Beautiful. Ay, love it; 'tis a sister that will bless, And teach thee patience when the heart is lonely; The angels love it, for they wear its dress; And thou art made a little lower only; - Sigh for it, clasp it when 'tis in thy way! Be its idolater, as of a maiden! Thy parents bent to it, and more than they; Be thou its worshipper. Another Eden Comes with the Beautiful. Some boast its presence in a Grecian face; Then seek it every where. THE RAVEN. Thy bosom is its mint; the workmen are 123 Thy thoughts; and they must coin for thee: believing The Beautiful exists in every star, Thou mak'st it so, and art thyself deceiving, Thou seest Beauty in the violet's cup; I'll teach thee miracles! Walk on this heath, And say to the neglected flower, "Look up, And be thou Beautiful!" If thou hast faith, It will obey thy word. One thing I warn thee; bow no knee to gold; And they who keep their best affections young, THE RAVEN. EDGAR A. POE. ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there. came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 124 THE RAVEN. "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here forevermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me, filled me, with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, 66 "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my cham ber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; This it is, and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 66 Sir," said I," or madam, truly your forgiveness |