WISDOM UNAPPLIED. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. IF I were thou, O butterfly! And poised my purple wings to spy I would not waste my strength on those, If I were thou, O eagle proud! And scream'd the thunder back to cloud, And faced the lightning in that shroud— I would not rest my royal throne, If I were thou, O gallant steed! I would not meeken to the rein, As thou, nor smooth my nostril plain From the glad desert's snort and strain. If I were thou, red-breasted bird! I would not overstay delight, While yet I spake, a sign was laid "If I were thou who sing'st this songMost wise for others, and most strong In seeing right while doing wrong— "I would not waste my life, and choose, As thou, to seek what thou must lose, Frail joys that perish in the use. "I would not work where none can win, As thou, along the ways of sin, But look above, and strive within. "I would not champ the hard cold bit, As thou, of what the world thinks fit, "I would not let my heart beat high, "I would not live earth's winter through, As thou, but (past the death in view) Live on for life God calls thee to. "Then sing, O singer! but avow That beast, and fly, and bird on bough, Howe'er unwise, are wise as thou!" "PRAY NOT FOR THE DEAD." M. A. H. PRAY not for the dead! Alas, alas! the prayer So often pour'd in bitterness of heart, Pray for the young! That they may live and learn, To God who gave it—and the dust to dust, Pray for the weary and the sick at heart, For those bow'd down by sorrow's heavy weight; Pray that the God of patience may impart His own good spirit to the desolate; And pray that they who sow in tears may reap Pray for the sinner-for the weak and blind- A star to light the darkness of their way: Pray for the dying, that their end be peace! Pray for the mourners who beside them kneel; Pray that the worn and aching heart may cease To suffer, though it may not cease to feel; And oh! that sorrow may not pass away, And leave those hearts unchasten'd, deeply pray! But pray not for the dead-nor weep nor sigh; Ye cannot know, ye cannot change their doom; For as the tree hath fallen, it must lie. In loneliness of spirit, by the tomb Kneel down, and tears of contrite sorrow shed: Pray for the living-pray not for the dead! |