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The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home,
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty
died, The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my
side: In the cold, moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so
brief; Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle, and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
2Q& THE CORAL GROVE.
THE CORAL GROVE. — P ercival
Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove;Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and grassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;The water is calm and still below, For the winds and the waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air;There, with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter;There, with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea:And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the waves his own. And when the ship from his fury flies, When the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies,
And demons are waiting the wreck on the shore;Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and gold-fish rove Where the waters murmur tranquilly Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.
A HAPPY LIFE. — Sir Henry Wotton.
How happy is he born and taught,
Whose armor is his honest thought,
Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise, Nor vice; hath ever understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise, Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumors freed ,*
Who God doth late and early pray
And entertains the harmless day
This man is freed from servile bands
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
208 GOOD TEMPER. VIRTUE.
KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM. — Cowper.
Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one,
GOOD TEMPER.TM More.
Since trifles make the sum of human things,
VIRTUE. — Old English Poetry.
The sturdy rock, for all his strength,
The marble stone is pierced at length
The ox doth yield unto the yoke;
The steel obeyeth the hammer stroke.
Yea, man himself, unto whose will All things are bounden to obey,
But Virtue sits, triumphing still,
Though spiteful Death man's body kill,
By life or death, whatso betides,
The state of Virtue never slides.
CONSTANCY. — George Herbert.
Who is the honest man? He that doth still and strongly good pursue, To God, his neighbor, and himself, most true;
Whom neither force nor frowning can
Whose honesty is not
Who rides his sure and even trot,
Who, when great trials come,
All being brought into a sum,