WOW came still evening on, and twilight To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the NOW gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleased; now glowed the firmament With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest; till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve: "Fair consort, the hour Of night, and all things now retired to rest, Mind us of like repose; since God hath set Labor and rest, as day and night, to men Successive; and the timely dew of sleep, Now falling with soft slumberous weight, in clines Our eyelids; other creatures all day long HE harp at Nature's advent strung The song the stars of morning sung And prayer is made, and praise is given, Its waves are kneeling on the strand, They pour their glittering treasures forth, The green earth sends her incense up The mists above the morning rills The winds with hymns of praise are loud, The thunder-organ of the cloud, With drooping head and branches crossed, Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost The blue sky is the temple's arch, So Nature keeps the reverent frame JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. Wherever through the ages rise Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb 'st, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st. Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now flyest With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies; And ye five other wandering fires, that move In mystic dance, not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness called up light. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices all, ye living souls; ye birds, That singing up to Heaven's gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. `Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread or lowly creep, Witness if I be silent morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, But could not make the riddle plain; To-day the statue seemed to grow, The third day all was well again; At last his life-long work was done,- He took his statue to the King, "Where is my statue ?" asked the King. "Here, Lord," the sculptor said. 66 True, "But I commanded marble." "Thou shalt not unrewarded go, He touched the statue and it changed; A marble shape before Him stands, The perfect work of heavenly hands, An angel pure as snow! D RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. UP-HILL. OES the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. 231 Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Will there be beds for me and all who seek? CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI. |