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Oh, come you from the Indies ? and, soldier, can you tell,
Oh a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
Oh, many a shaft, at random sent,
Oh, that those lips had language ! Life hath passed,
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold,
On Linden, when the sun was low,
One morn a Peri at the gate,
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered,
Since our country, our God-O my sire!
So forth issued the Seasons of the year,
Some murmur, when their sky is clear,
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
The bark that held a prince went down,
The Chief in silence strode before,.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,.
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink,
The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
The King was on his throne,
The pall was settled. He who slept beneath,
The spearman heard the bugle sound,
The stately Homes of England,
The sun stepped down from his golden throne,
The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
The way was long, the wind was cold,
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
There was a sound of revelry by night,
There were two fathers in this ghastly crew,
To him who in the love of nature holds
Under a spreading chestnut tree
Up from the meadows, rich with corn,
Vital spark of heavenly flame!
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
Welcome, wild North-easter!
We sat within the farm-house old,
What, is Antonio here?
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
With fingers weary and worn,
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more,
Youth, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,






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AN APRIL DAY.-Chaucer. * GEOFFREY CHAUCER (1328-1400) was closely connected with the court of Edward III. He is looked upon as the Father of English poetry. His chief work is the Canterbury Tales, consisting of stories told by some pilgrims whom Chaucer accompanied to the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury.

All day the low-hung clouds have dropt
Their garnered * fulness down ;

Garnered, stored up.
All day that soft grey mist hath wrapt
Hill, valley, grove, * and town.

Grove, a collection of
trees, or wood of small

size. 5 There has not been a sound to-day

To break the calm of nature,
Nor motion, I might almost say,

Of life, or living creature,
Of waving bough, or warbling* bird,

Warbling, gently
Or cattle faintly lowing ;*

singing. I could have half believed I heard

Lowing, the bellow. The leaves and blossoms growing.

ing or cry made by

I stood to hear, I love it well,
The rain's continuous* sound-

Continuous, not leav

ing off, 15 Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,

Down straight into the ground.
For leafy thickness is not yet
Earth's naked breast to screen,*

Screen, to hide.
Though every dripping branch is set

With shoots of tender green.
Sure, since I looked at early morn,
Those honeysuckle* buds

Honeysuckle, a climb
Have swelled to double growth; that thorn ing plant.

Hath put forth larger studs. * These verses are given in the spelling of the present day, as Chaucer's old mode of orthography would not be intelligible to young readers.



Cones, leaf buds. Revealing, making known.

Stealing, moving
softly, by degrees.
Fragrance, sweetness
of scent,
Rife, full of.


Momentary, lasting
for a moment,
Deluge, a great over-
flow of water.

That lilac's cleaving cones* have burst, 25

The milk-white floweis revealing ;*
Even now, upon my senses first

Methinks their sweets are stealing.*
The very earth, the steamy air
Is all with fragrance* rife ;*

30 And grace and beauty everywhere

Are flushing into life.
Down, down they come—those fruitful stores!

Those earth-rejoicing drops !
A momentary * deluge* pours,

Then thins, decreases, stops.
And ere the dimples on the stream

Have circled out of sight,
Lo! from the west a parting gleam

Breaks forth of amber* light.
But yet behold-abrupt* and loud,

Comes down the glittering rain;
The farewell of a passing cloud,

The fringes* of her train,


Amber', a yellow transparent substance. Abrupt, very sudden, unexpected. Fringe, the border or edge.

A PSALM OF LIFE.-Longfellow.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807-1882) was an eminent American poet. He was born at Portland, Maine, U.S., and for many years was Professor of Modern Languages and Literature at Harvard College, Massachusetts. Chief poems : Voices of the Night, Evangeline, Song of Hiawatha, Golden Legend, and Tales of a Wayside Inn.

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Numbers, verse or poetry.


Goal, the place one is trying to reach; the end of a race-course. Dust thou art, &c., referring to the death of the body and its decay in the grave. Destined, appointed, intended.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,*

Life is but an empty dream !
For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal ; *
“ Dust thou art,* to dust returnest,"

Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined * end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow

Finds us further than to-day !


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Trust no future, howe'er pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead ;
Act,-act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead !

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Great men.

Alfred the Great, Columbus, Shakspeare, Captain Cook, Nelson, George Washington, Stephenson, &c. Sublime, grand, noble. Footprints, &c., tho mark which one makes in the world by a good and noble life. Main,

the ocean: here, the length of one's life. Forlorn, forsaken, helpless, unfriended. Achieving, performing our work or task. Pursuing, going on without ceasing with the work we have undertaken ; perse. vering with our task.

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, *
A forlorn* and shipwrecked brother-

Seeing, shall take heart again.


Let us then be


and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving,* still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.



JOSEPH ADDISON (1672–1719) was born in Wiltshire. He was one of the most elegant of our prose-writers, and gained a high reputation by his poems. He became Secretary of State in 1717. Chief works: The Campaign, a poem celebrating Marlborough's victory of Blenheim (1704); essays to the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, on which his fame chiefly rests; and Cato, a tragedy written in 1713.

How are Thy servants blest, O Lord !

How sure is their defence !
Eternal wisdom is their guide,

Their help Omnipotence.

Omnipotence here means God, who is All-powerful.


Realms, kingdoms.
Remote, far away,
Climes, climates or
Tainted, corrupt,

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Hoary Alpine hills, the snow-capped hills of Switzerland. Tyrrhene seas,

the ancient name for the sea on the west coast of Italy. Afrighted, frightened,

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Confusion, not know. ing what to do.


Pilot, one who con. ducts vessels in and out of harbour, or along a dangerous coast.

Thy mercy sweetened every soul,

Made every region please ;
The hoary Alpine hills * it warmed

And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.
Think, O my soul, devoutly think,

How with affrighted * eyes,
Thou saw'st the wide extended deep,

In all its horrors rise.
Confusion * dwelt on every face,

And fear on every heart;
When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,

O’ercame the pilot's * art.
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord !

Thy mercy set me free ;
Whilst in the confidence of prayer,

My soul took hold on Thee.
For though in dreadful whirls we hung

High on the broken wave,
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,

Nor impotent* to save.
The storm was laid,* the winds retired,

Obedient to Thy will ;
The sea that roared at Thy command,

At Thy command was still.
In midst of dangers, fears, and death,

Thy goodness I'll adore;
And praise Thee for Thy mercies past,

And humbly hope for more.
My life, if Thou preserv'st my life,

Thy sacrifice * shall be ;
And death, if death must be my doom,

Shall join my soul to Thee.


Impotent, unable,
Laid, stilled.




Sucrifice, offering to


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