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THE LAST LEAF.
And the names he loved to hear
My grandmamma has said —
Long ago —
In the snow.
But now his nose is thin.
Like a staff;
In his laugh.
I know it is a sin
At him here,
Are so queer!
And if I should live to be
In the spring,
Where I cling.
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
THE MARINER'S DREAM.
slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
While memory each scene gaily covered with flowers,
Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
Now far, far behind him the greeu waters glide,
The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
His cheek is bedewed witli a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast;
Joy quickens his pulses,— his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,—
■• O God! thou hast blest me,— I ask for no more."
Ah! whence is that flame which now glares on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now bursts on his
'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky!
'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!
He springs from his hammock,— he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts hiiu with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck;
The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire.
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell;
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell;
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
O sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright,—
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?
O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge!
On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be laid,—
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away.
Frail, short-sighted mortals their doom must obey,—
RING OUT, WILD BELLS.
glNG out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new;
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
THE MONEYLESS MAN.
there no place on the face of the earth,
Is there no place at all, where a knock from the poor,
Go, look in yon hall where the chandelier's light
Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire,
Go, look in the Banks, where Mammon has told
Go, look to yon Judge, in his dark flowing gown,
Then go to your hovel—no raven has fed
The wife who has suffered too long for her bread;
Kneel down by her pallet, and kiss the death-frost
From the lips of the angel your poverty lost,
Then turn in your agony upward to God,
And bless, while it smites you, the chastening rod,
And you'll find, at the end of your life's little span,
There's a welcome above for a Moneyless Man.
Henry T. Stanton.
I In minds made better by their presence; live
So to live is heaven:
That watched to ease the burden of the world,
Laboriously tracing what must be,
And what may yet be better.— saw within
A worthier image for the sanctuary,
And shaped it forth before the multitude,
Divinely human, raising worship so
To higher reverence more mixed with love,—
That better self shall live till human Time
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky
Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb,
Unread for ever.
This is life to come,
May I reach,
That purest heaven,—be to other souls
Marian Evans Lewes Cross (George Eliot).