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THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

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Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Crom

well,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king;

And, prithee, lead me in;

There, take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny: 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all

I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not, in mine age,
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

XXXIX.

THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.

CARDINAL NEWMAN.

LEAD, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home,.—
Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene, one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
Shouldst lead me on:

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on;

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost the while.

XL.

EVERY YEAR.

ALBERT PIKE.

LIFE is a count of losses

Every year;

For the weak are heavier crosses
Every year;

Lost springs with sobs replying
Unto weary autumn sighing;
While those we love are dying
Every year.

The days have less of gladness
Every year;

The nights more weight of sadness

Every year;

EVERY YEAR.

Fair springs no longer charm us,
The winds and weather harm us,
The threats of death alarm us
Every year.

There come new cares and sorrows
Every year;

Dark days and darker morrows
Every year;

The ghosts of dead loves haunt us,
The ghosts of changed friends taunt us,
And disappointments daunt us
Every year.

To the past go more dead faces
Every year;

As the loved leave vacant places

Every year;

Everywhere their sad eyes meet us,
In the evening's dusk they greet us,
And to come to them entreat us
Every year.

"You are growing old," they tell us,

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"You are more alone," they tell us,

"Every year.

You can win no new affection,

You have only recollection,
Deeper sorrow and dejection,
Every year."

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The shores of life are shifting

Every year;

And we are seaward drifting
Every year;

Old places, changing, fret us,
The living more forget us,

There are fewer to regret us
Every year.

But the truer life draws nigher
Every year;

And its morning star climbs higher
Every year;

Earth's hold on us grows slighter,
And its heavy burden lighter,
And the dawn immortal brighter,
Every year.

XLI.

THANATOPSIS.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty; and she glides

THANATOPSIS.

187

When thoughts

Into his darker musings with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;
Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around
Earth and her waters and the depths of air
Comes a still voice, — Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements;

To be a brother to the insensible rock,

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. Yet not to thine eternal resting place

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Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world, with kings,

The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good,

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