DEAR friend, there comes to me a time of sadness, For thou art going very far away;
Dear friend, there comes to thee a time of gladness,
For it is happier to go than stay.
'Tis sweet to satisfy the spirit's yearning
For wisdom, and for contemplative calm ;
To dwell within the cloistral haunts of learning,
Sacred with echoes of the daily psalm.
But nobler into the wide world advancing,
A teacher and example unto men;
Rich in the smiles of angels ever glancing,
Who, if they guard thee now, will help thee then.
E'en as of old the young esquire bent praying
In the lone church throughout the solemn night; Knighted at morn, went through the world essaying To crush the evil and exalt the right.
So having watched, so go ;-work follows praying
Into the world go from the temple here;
No sin alluring, doubt nor danger staying;
All things to love, and only one to fear.
MORE beautiful than day, by far,
The hour when night with morning meets; The night when here and there a star,
The falling sun serenely greets.
ONLY two words, and nothing in themselves,
But in their tone! Well said the poet once,
"The soul is in the voice." A soul was there,-
A mine of riches, in that silvery voice,
"Twas such a siren voice! Ah, in the world
Ulysses numbers many counterparts!
A tone has shaped a man's career for life.
Oh, such a silvery tone was hers, soft as
The gentle raindrops as they kiss the ice,
Or as the plash of pendant willow-leaves
Prest on the water by the frolic wind.
It told of gentle thoughts, and rich mind-stores;
And as a vestal altar, where the flame
Of holy charity incessant burnt,
It showed her heart. Oh! twas a silvery voice;
A soft, and silvery, and syren voice!
'GAINST the ruined wall I leant,
Gazing on the marble cross:
Though fair arch and pediment
In a piteous ruin lay,
Its white beauty knew no loss ;
And, behind, the still stars went
On their everlasting course;
And I could not choose but say,
"There are stars behind the Cross."
Nor my life has e'er forgot
The great lesson of that eve;
Long has sorrow been my lot,
In the night and in the day,—
Hopes that flatter and deceive,
Joys that bloom, then fade and rot;
Gains that only end in loss;
Yet I cannot choose but say,
"There are stars behind the Cross."
Love, that seemed so beautiful,
Is of tears the constant source;
For my eyes are dim and dull
While my love is far away;
Bitter is my daily loss,
Yet, that I am sorrowful
Still doth bring a strange remorse;
And I cannot choose but say,
"There are stars behind the Cross."
Though the end is high and pure,
Weary is the daily force
That my courage may endure
At distasteful toil to stay;
Tides of music through me course;
While the poet's hopes allure
I must spend my life for dross;
Yet I cannot choose but say,
"There are stars behind the Cross."
For the spirit's sacrifice
Hath a gain above its loss;
God's is better than my choice:
At His holy feet I lay
Love's, and joy's, and life's resource; Though I cannot quite rejoice, Calmness, peace, and not remorse,
Come to me-I love to say,
"There are stars behind the Cross."
In the elms the wind is sighing,
On the ground the snow is lying,
And the old year lies a-dying,
Looking at the sky.
Strange, the whole wide world is sleeping,
And he hears no sound of weeping ;—
Not a soul is nigh.
Poor his resting-place, unsightly;
O'er his brow his hair lies lightly,
Long, and silvery, shining brightly.
List! he fain would speak.
But his words come faintly, slowly;
Listen, dying words are holy,
Though they seem so weak.
"I am dying, dying gladly,
Wearily I lived, and sadly;
Men my strength have lavished madly,
That was theirs to use
As a treasure that could buy them
All to bless and glorify them,
Not to waste and lose.
"Fast the night succeeds the gloaming;
From the highest heaven roaming,
Soon the infant year is coming,
Beautiful to see,
In the old eternal beauty,
Radiant with the light of duty ;—
Soon to be as me."
THE frost was on the earth, all harsh and cold ;-
Black were the leaves, and barren was the mould;
But stars were shining multitudinous,
With light that only winter granteth us.
Ah, I have seen the golden majesty
Of the sun, rising o'er the crimson sea;
His setting in the wave I oft have seen,
And skies that lapsed through gold, and blue, and green;
Have seen him sleep in solitary glen,
Have seen him lighting the dull haunts of men.
Oft have I seen the moon, with glory pale,
Shine clear or tremulous through cloudy veil ;
But never saw my eyes a lovelier sight
Than the black sky and the white stars to-night :
Nor heard the voice of winds so clear and sweet,
As if an angel-voice the earth should greet;
And fancy, like to music of strange rhymes,
Heard with rapt ear afar the spheral chimes.
Imagination said: "When life is cold,
And hope, and joy, and love, their pinions fold,
And will not leave their thrones, 'tis then, 'tis then,
That heavenly sights and voices come to men.
More unto those that sorrow than rejoice
Are the skies opened; sounds the angel-voice:
To those down-laid in great abandonment
A calmer rest and fairer sights are sent.
We do not near the sky as we ascend ;
Unto the lowly do the heavens bend."
SWEET sister, household darling, fairy queen!
These all are names of hers, for she is sweet,
And dear, and fair; and never have I seen
A daintier little dame. Her tiny feet
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