NTO the Silent Land !

Ah! who shall lead us thither?
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.
Who leads us with a gentle hand
Thither, O thither,
Into the Silent Land ?

Into the Silent Land !
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all perfection! Tender morning visions
Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band
Who in Life's battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land !

O Land! O Land !
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our fate allotted,
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great Departed,
Into the Silent Land !


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I wake! Away that dream, — away!

Too long did it remain !
So long, that both by night and day

It ever comes again.
The end lies ever in my thought;

To a grave so cold and deep
The mother beautiful was brought;

Then dropt the child asleep.
But now the dream is wholly o’er,

I bathe mine eyes and see;
And wander through the world once more,

A youth so light and free.
Two locks, - and they are wondrous fair, —

Left me that vision mild ;
The.brown is from the mother's hair,

The blond is from the child.

And when I see that lock of gold,

Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold,

I wish that I were dead.


With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again.

The first, a youth, with soul of fire,
Held in his hand a golden lyre ;
Through groves he wandered, and by streams,
Playing the music of our dreams.

The second, with a bearded face,
Stood singing in the market-place,
And stirred with accents deep and loud
The hearts of all the listening crowd.

A gray, old man, the third and last,
Sang in cathedrals dim and vast,
While the majestic organ rolled
Contrition from its mouths of gold.

And those who heard the Singers three
Disputed which the best might be;
For still their music seemed to start
Discordant echoes in each heart.

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But the great Master said, “I see
No best in kind, but in degree;
I gave a various gift to each,
To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.

« These are the three great chords of might,
And he whose ear is tuned aright
Will hear no discord in the three,
But the most perfect harmony."





HEARD the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men !
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men !
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth,
The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men !
And in despair I bowed my head;
There is no peace on earth,” I said ;

« For hate is strong

And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men !”


Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.

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