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And when I see that lock of gold,
Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold,
I wish that I were dead.
IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY.
THE sun is bright, the air is clear,
The darting swallows soar and sing, And from the stately elms I hear
The blue-bird prophesying Spring. So blue yon winding river flows,
It seems an outlet from the sky, Where waiting till the west wind blows,
The freighted clouds at anchor lie.
All things are new ;-the buds, the leaves,
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest, And even the nest beneath the eaves;
There are no birds in last year's nest!
All things rejoice in youth and love,
The fulness of their first delight! And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night.
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme,
Enjoy thy youth-it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,
For, oh! it is not always May!
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
To some good angel leave the rest;
There are no birds in last year's nest !
THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
. And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Some days must be dark and dreary.
The burial-ground God's-Acre!' It is just;
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name imparts
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown The seed that they had garnered in their hearts,
Their bread of life, alas, no more their own!
In the sure faith that we shall rise again
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.
Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,
In the fair gardens of that second birth; And each bright blossom mingle its perfume
With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth.
With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow; This is the field and acre of our God,
This is the place where human harvests grow!
TO THE RIVER CHARLES.
Through the meadows, bright and free,
In the bosom of the sea!
Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest and half in strife,
Onward, like the stream of life.
Thou hast taught me, silent River !
Many a lesson, deep and long; Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.
Oft in sadness and in illness
I have watched thy current glide, Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide,
And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
Nor because thy waves of blue
Take their own celestial hue.
Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
And have made thy margin dear. More than this ;-thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried ; And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.
Friends my soul with joy remembers !
How like quivering flames they start, When I fan the living embers;
On the hearth-stone of my heart! 'Tis for this, thou silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee'; Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.
BLIND BARTIMEUS.* *
BLIND Bartimeus at the gates :
The thronging multitudes increase;
THE GOBLET OF LIFE.
With solemn voice and slow.
No purple flowers,-no garlands green,
Thick leaves of mistletoe.
This goblet, wrought with curious art,
Are running all to waste.
And as it mantling passes round,
And give a bitter taste.
Above the lowly plants it towers,
Lost vision to restore.
It gave new strength and fearless mood;
A wreath of fennel wore.
Then in Life's goblet freely press
New light and strength they give!
And he who has not learned to know
He has not learned to live.
The prayer of Ajax was for light;
To see his foeman's face.
Let our unceasing, earnest prayer
One half the human race.
o suffering, sad humanity!
Patient, though sorely tried!
Then sleep we side by side.