UNKNOWN. eyes, 335 That here once looked on glowing skies, And the widow's sob and the orphan's | Now changed the scene and changed the wail jarred through the joyous air; How could the light wind o'er the sea, blow on so fresh and fair? How could the gay waves laugh and leap, landward o'er sand and stone, While he, who knew and loved them all lay lapped in clay alone? But for long, when to the beetling heights When gear is sorted, and sails are set, A kindly sigh, and a hearty word, they JOHN C. FREMONT. ON RECROSSING THE ROCKY MOUN- LONG years ago I wandered here, A score of horsemen here we rode, These scenes in glowing colors drest, The whispering woods and fragrant breeze And glistening crag in sunlit sky, My path was o'er the prairie wide, The rose that waved in morning air, Gave to my heart its ruddiest hue, These riven trees, this wind-swept plain The rocks rise black from storm-packed Wet was the grass beneath our tread, Thick-dewed the bramble by the way; The lichen had a lovelier red, The elder-flower a fairer gray. And there was silence on the land, The beeches sighed through all their boughs; The gusty pennons of the pine One gable, full against the sun, From all its honeysuckled breath. Then crew the cocks from echoing farms, The chimney-tops were plumed with smoke, The windmill shook its slanted arms, And voices sounded mid the trees Of orchards red with burning leaves, By thick hives, sentinelled by bees, From fields which promised tented sheaves; Till the day waxed into excess, And on the misty, rounding gray,- UNKNOWN. THE FISHERMAN'S SUMMONS. THE sea is calling, calling. The boys and girls with their merry din, The sea is calling, calling, I know each nook in the rocky strand, And the worn old cliff where the seapinks cling, And the winding caves where the echoes ring. I shall wake them nevermore. I saw the "sea-dog" over the height, And the cottage creaks and rocks, wellnigh, As the old "Fox" did in the days gone by, In the moan of the rising gale. Yet it is calling, calling. To go fluttering out in the cold and the dark, Like the bird they tell us of, from the ark; While the foam flies thick on the bitter blast, And the angry waves roll fierce and fast, Where the black buoy marks the bay. Do you hear it calling, calling? And the rudder chafed my hold. Will it never stop calling, calling? Come near then, give me a hand to touch, You hear it calling, calling? But, then, it is calling, calling, It is up on the shelf there if you look; ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY. "I've been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky; I've been grinding a grist in the mill hard by; I've been laughing at work while others sigh; Let those laugh who win!" Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing? "I'm urging the corn to fill out its cells; I'm helping the lily to fashion its bells; I'm swelling the torrent and brimming the wells; Is that worth pursuing?" Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done? "I've been watching the nest where my fledgelings lie; I've sung them to sleep with a lullaby; By and by I shall teach them to fly, Up and away, every one!' Honey-bee, honey-bee, where are you going? "To fill my basket with precious pelf; To toil for my neighbor as well as myself; To find out the sweetest flower that grows, Be it a thistle or be it a rose, — A secret worth the knowing!" Each content with the work to be done, Wind and rain fulfilling His word! Or the rain, that was bidden to fall, demurred? TWO MOODS. I PLUCKED the harebells as I went 337 Singing along the river-side; The curlews called along the shore; Perhaps, to-day, some other one, "And yet for days it seems my heart shall | That while they nobly held it as each blossom never more, And the burden of my loneliness lies on me very sore: Therefore, O hewer of the stones that pave base human ways, How canst thou bear the years till death, made of such thankless days?" Then he replied: "Ere sunrise, when the pale lips of the day Sent forth an earnest thrill of breath at warmth of the first ray, A great thought rose within me, how, while men asleep had lain, The thousand labors of the world had grown up once again. "The sun grew on the world, and on my soul the thought grew too, A great appalling sun, to light my soul the long day through. I felt the world's whole burden for a moment, then began With man's gigantic strength to do the labor of one man. "I went forth hastily, and lo! I met a hundred men, The worker with the chisel and the worker with the pen, The restless toilers after good, who sow and never reap, And one who maketh music for their souls that may not sleep. "Each passed me with a dauntless look, and my undaunted eyes Were almost softened as they passed with tears that strove to rise At sight of all those labors, and because that every one, Ay, the greatest, would be greater if my little were undone. "They passed me, having faith in me, and in our several ways, Together we began to-day as on the other days: I felt their mighty hands at work, and, as the day wore through, Perhaps they felt that even I was helping somewhat too: "Perhaps they felt, as with those hands they lifted mightily The burden once more laid upon the world so heavily, man can do and bear, It did not wholly fall my side as though no man were there. Dear queen of snowy mountains, Within whose rocky, heaven-aspiring pale 339 Truth hath decreed her joyous resurrection: She shall arise, she must. For can it be that wickedness hath power To undermine or topple down the tower Of virtue's edifice? A rock of adamant? It is of ice, To praise it right, thine own sweet tones That rock soon destined to dissolve away would fail; Hail to thee! hail! How rich art thou in lakes to poet dear, And those broad pines amid the sunniest glade So reigning through the year, Within the magic circle of their shade No sunbeam may appear! How fair thy double sea! In blue celestially Glittering and circling! but I may not dwell On gifts, which, decking thee too well, Allured the spoiler. Let me fix my ken Rather upon thy godlike men, The good, the wise, the valiant, and the free, On history's pillars towering gloriously, In spite of chance, And worser ignorance, If men be ruled by Duty's firm decree, And wisdom hold her paramount mastery. What art thou now? Alas! Alas! Before the righteous sun's returning ray. But who shall bear the dazzling radiancy, When first the royal Maid awaking Darteth around her wild indignant eye, When first her bright spear shaking, Fixing her feet on earth, her looks on sky, She standeth like the Archangel prompt to vanquish, Yet still imploring succor from on high? O days of weary hope and passionate anguish, When will ye end! Until that end be come, until I hear The Alps their mighty voices blend, To swell and echo back the sound most dear To patriot hearts, the cry of Liberty, As erst is canopied with Freedom's sheen, I then may die, Die how well satisfied! Conscious that I have watched the second birth Of her I've loved the most upon the earth, Conscious beside That no more beauteous sight can here be given: Sublimer visions are reserved for heaven. T. K. HERVEY. EPITAPH. FAREWELL! since never more for thee The sun comes up our eastern skies, Less bright henceforth shall sunshine be To some fond hearts and saddened eyes. |