It is a happy thing to dream When rosy thoughts and visions bright Pour on the soul a golden stream Of rich luxurious delight; It is a weary thing to dream, When from the hot and aching brain It is a curious thing to dream, When shapes grotesque of all quaint things Like laughing water-witches seem To sport in reason's turbid springs; It is a glorious thing to dream, When full of wings and full of eyes Borne on the whirlwind or sunbeam We race along the startled skies; It is a wondrous thing to dream Of tumbling with a fearful shock It is a terrible thing to dream Of strangled throats, and heart-blood spilt, And ghosts that in the darkness gleam, And horrid eyes of midnight guilt :— INFANT CHRIST, WITH FLOWERS. Who shall tell me what I dream? Ages lingering in a night, Thronging thoughts of things that teem INFANT CHRIST, WITH FLOWERS. YES, I can fancy, in the spring Of childhood's sunny hours, That Nature's infant Priest and King Loved to gaze on flowers; For lightly, 'mid the wreck of all, Above the billows of the fall Unfallen, sinless, undefiled, Fresh bathed in summer showers, In these He saw His Father's face, In these He found where Wisdom hides 197 Innocent Child, a little while, Ere yet the tempest lowers, Bask Thy young heart in Nature's smile, Thy young heart,—is it not array'd Yes, being now of thorns afraid, I see Thee crown'd with flowers. HIS HONOUR IN SALVATION. O MARVEL! that All-holy GoD, The LORD, That He, in loving warmth, should condescend BLUCHER'S "FORWARDS!" 199 BLUCHER'S "FORWARDS!" BRAVO! brave old Teuton heart, Noble "Marshal Forwards!" Bravo! every better part,— All are shouting Forwards; If we gain, to gain the more, Ever marching forwards; By the rule of-Forwards! Forwards; it's the way of life, Always urging forwards, Be it peace, or be it strife, All is moving forwards; Generations live and die, By the law of forwards; Tend for ever forwards! So, good youth, go on and win! Conquest lives in Forwards; Go, if once you well begin, Steering clear of self and sin, Forwards, ever forwards! Never could the foe withstand Honest Blucher's one command, Forwards, soldiers! forwards,— Never shall the foe be met Bold enough to front thee yet, If thy face is Forwards! ASPIRE. HIGHER, higher, ever higher,- Whatsoe'er be GOD's behest, Try to do that duty best In the strength of Truth. Let a just ambition fire GOD and man to serve : Man, with zeal and honour due, Let not Doubt thine efforts tire, |