As down through the measureless space it And then thou shalt have thy choice to be strayed; Or as, half by dalliance, half afraid, It seemed in mid air suspended. Restored in the lily that decks the lea, "O no," said the Earth, "thou shalt not With pearls that the night scatters over the lie, Neglected and lone, on my lap to die, Thou pure and delicate child of the sky; For thou wilt be safe in my keeping: mead, In the cup where the bee and the firefly feed, Regaining thy dazzling brightness. But, then, I must give thee a lovelier Or wouldst thou return to a home in the form; Thou'lt not be a part of the wintry storm, skies, To shine in the Iris, I'll let thee arise, And appear in the many and glorious dyes They rise and will live, from thy dust set I ASKED an aged man, a man of cares, Wrinkled and curved, and white with hoary ́hairs: "Time is the warp of life," he said; "oh, tell And they replied (no oracle more wise): "Tis folly's blank and wisdom's highest prize." I asked a spirit lost-but, oh, the shriek The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it That pierced my soul! I shudder while I well!" speak: It cried, "A particle, a speck, a mite Of endless years, duration infinite." Of things inanimate my dial I Consulted, and it made me this reply: "Time is the season fair of living well, The path to glory, or the path to hell." I asked my Bible, and methinks it said, I asked old Father Time himself at last, behind. I asked the mighty Angel, who shall stand One foot on sea, and one on solid land: "By heaven's great King, I swear the mystery's o'er ! Time was," he cried, "but Time SHALL BÉ no more." MARSDEN. COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR. "AND wherefore do the Poor complain?" | She said her father was at home, The Rich man asked of me; Come, walk abroad with me," I said, "And I will answer thee." 'Twas evening, and the frozen streets Were cheerless to behold; And we were wrapped and coated well, And yet we were a-cold. We met an old bareheaded man, His locks were few and white; I asked him what he did abroad In that cold winter's night. The cold was keen indeed, he said, We met a young barefooted child, And she begged loud and bold; I asked her what she did abroad When the wind it blew so cold. And he lay sick a-bed, And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread. We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest; She had a baby at her back, And another at her breast. I asked her why she loitered there, Then told us that her husband served, I turned me to the Rich man, then, 'You asked me why the Poor complain, And these have answered thee !" SOUTHEY. THERE was joy in the ship, as she furrowed | That she offered to God, in her agony wild, the foam, For fond hearts within her were dreaming of home. The young mother pressed fondly her babe to her breast, And sang a sweet song as she rocked it to rest; Was, "Father, have mercy! look down on my child!" She flew to her husband, she clung to his side; Oh! there was her refuge whatever betide! And the husband sat cheerily down by her Fire! fire! it is raging above and below; side, And looked with delight on the face of his bride. And the smoke and hot cinders all blindingly blow. The cheek of the sailor grew pale at the sight, "Oh, happy!" said he, "when our roaming And his eyes glistened wild in the glare of is o'er, the light. The smoke in thick wreaths mounted higher and higher!— O God! it is fearful to perish by fire! Alone with destruction!-alone on the sea! Great Father of Mercy! our hope is in thee! They prayed for the light, and at noontide about And the mother knelt down; and the half- They bear down upon us!--thank God! we spoken prayer are saved!" C. MACKAY. For your cheerfulness almost would make And hang down their heads, as they walk Though your path all around may with And still on your tongue words of comfort "Father Peter, your body resembles the Master Francis, a thousand enjoyments oak, Decked with leaves, though its trunk may decline; There is health in your features, and strength in your stroke, are near, And ten thousand temptations attend; to fear, For he died to redeem, and still lives to defend. And your cheek is more ruddy than mine. |