So that her high-born kinsman came In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, EDGAR ALLAN POE. A DEATH BED. HER sufferings ended with the day, Yet lived she at its close, And breathed the long, long night away, But when the sun, in all his state, Illumed the eastern skies, She pass'd through Glory's morning-gate, And walk'd in Paradise! PROMOTED. JAMES ALDRICH. HIS was the swiftest foot, the merriest eye, Of all the boys who thronged our shady street. The strength of his lithe limbs seemed measure less; The courage of his loving, brave, young heart “I shall be never lonely, never sad." One day, the sun shone bright,-I know not why, A pierced hand knocked at my vine-clad door, And now my boy, my little boy, knows more MARY S. BACON. NOT LOST. YES, cross in rest the little, snow-white hands. With love's last kiss? Their sweetness has Though now you say her sinless spirit stands, Gather the soft hair round the dainty head That her pure soul is not by vexed winds tost Along the pathless altitudes of space. This life but sows the seed, from which one reaps The future's harvest. No, I have not lost The glory and the gladness of her face. THOMAS S. COLLIER. KENSAL GREEN, (October 23, 1890.) WITH what sorrow, with what sadness, Laid we one whose heart was gladness Silver mist and birches true Wept for him their tears of dew, Wept for him their tears of dew. Slowly, sadly we departed; One was dead, one broken-hearted, Silver mist and birches true Wept for both their tears of dew, Wept for both their tears of dew. A. W. DRAKE. WHEN THE BABY DIED. WHEN the baby died, On every side White lilies and blue violets were strewn ; Unreasoning, the mother's heart made moan: "Who counted all these flowers which have grown Unhindered in their bloom? Was there not room, O Earth, and God, couldst thou not care For mine a little longer? Fare Thy way, O Earth! All life, all death Is idle chance, more pitiless than law." When the baby died, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery ; But in her bitter heart she said, Their dead. There is no God, but cruel law." When the baby died, On every side Swift angels came in shining, singing bands, Into the sunshine of the Spirit Land; And Christ the Shepherd said, "Let them be led In gardens nearest to the earth. |