CHARLES JEFFERYS. 1807-1865. Come o'er the moonlit sea, The waves are brightly glowing. The Moonlit Sea. The morn was fair, the skies were clear, No breath came o'er the sea. The Rose of Allandale. Meek and lowly, pure and holy, Chief among the "blessed three." Charity. Come, wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright On river and forest, o'er mountain and lea. A word in season spoken May calm the troubled breast. Come, wander with me. A Word in Season. The bud is on the bough again, The leaf is on the tree. The Meeting of Spring and Summer. I have heard the mavis singing Its love-song to the morn; We have lived and loved together Mary of Argyle. Through many changing years; We have lived and loved together. LADY DUFFERIN. 1807-1867. I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, Where we sat side by side. Lament of the Irish Emigrant. I'm very lonely now, Mary, For the poor make no new friends; The few our Father sends ! Ibid. HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 1807-1882. (From the edition of 1886.) Look, then, into thine heart, and write!1 Voices of the Night. Prelude. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" Life is real! life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Was not spoken of the soul. Art is long, and time is fleeting, 8 A Psalm of Life. And our hearts, though stout and brave, Funeral marches to the grave.* Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Lives of great men all remind us Footprints on the sands of time. any fate; 5 Learn to labour and to wait. 1 See Philip Sidney, page 34. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. 2 Things are not always what they seem. - PHEDRUS: Fables, book iv. Fable 2. 8 See Chaucer, page 6. Art is long, life is short. — GOETHE: Wilhelm Meister, vii. 9. 4 Our lives are but our marches to the grave.-BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: The Humorous Lieutenant, act iii. sc. 5. 5 See Byron, page 553. There is a reaper whose name is Death,1 Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, The hooded clouds, like friars, Ibid. Flowers. Midnight Mass. No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. Sunrise on the Hills. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, For Time will teach thee soon the truth, Endymion. It is not always May. Into each life some rain must fall, The Rainy Day. 1 There is a Reaper whose name is death. ARNIM AND BRENTANO: Erntelied. (From "Des Knaben Wunderhorn," ed. 1857, vol. i. p. 59.) 2 Never look for birds of this year in the nests of the last. - CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. lxxiv. The prayer of Ajax was for light.1 The Goblet of Life. O suffering, sad humanity! Standing with reluctant feet O thou child of many prayers! Ibid. Maidenhood. Ibid. The Spanish Student. Act ii. Sc. 3. A banner with the strange device. This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy past The day is done, and the darkness A feeling of sadness and longing And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Excelsior. A Gleam of Sunshine. The Day is done. And the night shall be filled with music, 1 The light of Heaven restore; 2 See Byron, page 553. Ibid. Ibid. POPE: The Iliad, book xvii. line 730. Sail on, O Ship of State! With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! The Building of the Ship. Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, - Are all with thee, are all with thee! The leaves of memory seemed to make Ibid. The Fire of Drift-wood. There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there; There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair. The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead. But oftentimes celestial benedictions Resignation. Ibid. Ibid. What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers Ibid. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the gods see everywhere. This is the forest primeval. The Builders. Evangeline. Part i. |