2

Half-way up the stairs it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands
From its case of massive oak,

Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!

With sorrowful voice to all who pass,-
"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

3

By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,

And seems to say, at each chamber-door,— "Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

4

Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude

Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,—
"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

5

In that mansion used to be

Free-hearted Hospitality;

His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased,-
"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

6

There groups of merry children played,
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;
O precious hours! O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!

Even as a miser counts his gold,

Those hours the ancient timepiece told,

"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

7

From that chamber, clothed in white,
The bride came forth on her wedding night;
There, in that silent room below,

The dead lay in his shroud of snow;

And in the hush that followed the prayer,

Was heard the old clock on the stair,

"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

8

All are scattered now and fled,
Some are married, some are dead;
And when I ask, with throbs of pain,
"Ah! when shall they all meet again?"
As in the days long since gone by,
The ancient timepiece makes reply,-
"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

9

Never here, forever there,

Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,-
Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,-

"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

THE FOUR WINDS

The Four Winds has no hidden meaning, but to read it with the understanding is difficult. It contains twenty-six distinct mental images—the first stanza has

six, the second seven, the third six and the last seven. To see them all clearly as one reads the lines is not easy to do, but it must be done if the poem is to give the reader its full value. The meaning of the poem is revealed in the last line. It is a good piece with which to test one's imaginative power--and the imagination is the chief agent in good reading, whether silent or oral.

THE FOUR WINDS

Wind of the North,

1

Wind of the Norland snows,

Wind of the winnowed skies and sharp, clear stars-
Blow cold and keen across the naked hills,

And crisp the lowland pools with crystal films,
And blur the casement squares with glittering ice,
But go not near my love.

Wind of the West,

2

Wind of the few, far clouds,

Wind of the gold and crimson sunset lands-
Blow fresh and pure across the peaks and plains,
And broaden the blue spaces of the heavens,
And sway the grasses and the mountain pines,
But let my dear one rest.

From The Dead Nymph and Other Poems
Copyright, 1891, By Charles Scribner's Sons

Wind of the East,

Wind of the sunrise seas,

3

Wind of the clinging mists and gray, harsh rains

Blow moist and chill across the wastes of brine,

And shut the sun out, and the moon and stars,
And lash the boughs against the dripping eaves,
Yet keep thou from my love.

Wind from the bowers of jasmine and of rose-
Over magnolia blooms and lilied lakes

And flowering forests come with dewy wings,
And stir the petals at her feet, and kiss

The low mound where she lies.

-Charles Henry Lüders.

THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH

Killingworth is a village in Connecticut. An old resident of the place is quoted (in the Houghton, Mifflin & Company edition of Longfellow's works) as saying that the men of Killingworth

"did yearly, in the spring, choose two leaders and then the two sides were formed [to see who could kill the