And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the end, And I saw them again, bending low o'er the grave, But the Healer was there, and his arms were around, And he showed them a star in the bright upper world, 'Twas their star shining brilliantly there! They had each heard a voice-'t was the voice of their God, "I love thee-I love thee-pass under the rod!" SIGN SHYLOCK TO ANTONIO. IGNIOR Antonio, many a time and oft About my moneys, and my usances: A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; THE BOYS. HE boys are coming home to-morrow!" “TH Whilst Lou and I shot flitting glances, Full of vague, unspoken dread. Had we hither come for quiet, Waking one with wild hallooing Stumbling over trailing flounces, Thumbing volumes gold and blue; Clamoring for sugared dainties, Tracking earth the passage through. These and other kindred trials Fancied we with woful sigh: "Those boys, those horrid boys, to-morrow!" Sadly whispered Lou and I. I wrote those lines one happy summer; We watched all day the opening door. They came "the boys!" Six feet in stature, Graceful, easy, polished men ; I vowed to Lou, behind my knitting, For boyhood is a thing immortal To her, no line comes sharply marking Now by the window, still and sunny, For Lou and I are now her daughters About their awkward ways, and noise. Lou springs up to meet a footfall; But when she blesses Lou's beloved, Alway she speaks in gentle fashion THE TWO MAIDENS. NE came with light and laughing air, ONE And cheek like opening blossom; Bright gems were twined amid her hair, And glittered on her bosom; And pearls and costly bracelets deck Like summer's sky, with stars bedight, A pensive shade was stealing; Which mourns the heart should ever stray From the pure fount of Truth away. Around her brow, as snowdrop fair, Nor pearl nor ornament was there, And faith and hope beamed from her eye, W WHERE ARE THE DEAD? HERE are the mighty ones of ages past, Who o'er the world their inspiration castWhose memories stir our spirits like a blast? Where are the dead? Where are old empire's sinews snapped and gone? Where is the Persian? Mede? Assyrian? Where are the kings of Egypt? Babylon? Where are the dead? Where are the mighty ones of Greece? Where be The men of Sparta and Thermopyla? The conquering Macedonian, where is he? Where are the dead? Where are Rome's founders? Where her chiefest son, Before whose name the whole known world bowed down Whose conquering arm chased the retreating sun? Where are the dead? Where's the bard-warrior king of Albion's state, The truly, nobly, wisely, goodly great? Where are the dead? Where is Gaul's hero, who aspired to be A second Cæsar in his mastery · To whom earth's crowned ones trembling bent the knee? Where are the dead? Where is Columbia's son, her darling child, Where are the dead? Where are the sons of song, the soul-inspired- The classic dead? Greater than all an earthly sun enshrined - The mighty dead? Did they all die when did their bodies die, Why was it not confined to earthly sphere- |