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Shonldst thon be torn from ine to wander alone la a desolate land where the snn is scaree known,—
Throngh forests I'll follow, and where the sea
roars. Throngh ice, and throngh iron, throngh armies
Aunie of Tharaw, my light and my snn.
The threads of onr two lives are woven in one.
W-l.ate'or I have bidden thee thon hast obeyed, Whatever forbidden than hast not gaiusaid.
How in the tnrmoil of life can love stang, Where there is not one heart, and one month, and one hand!
Some seek for disseusion, and trouble, and strife; Like a dog and a cat live snch man and wile.
Aunie of Tharaw, snch is not ovr love;
Thon art my lambkin, my chick, and my dove.
Whate'er my desire, in thine may be seen; l am king of the honsehold, and thon art its qneen.
lt is this, O my Aunie, my heart's sweetest rest. That makes of ns twain bnt one sonl in one bixast.
This tnrus to a heaven the tint where we dwell; While wrangling soon changes a home to a hell.
THE STATUE OVER THE CATHEDRAL DOOR.
FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEX
Forms of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above; Yet l saw bnt one among them
Who hath soothed my sonl with love. In his mantle—wennd abont him,
As their robes the sowers wind.— Bore he swallows and their fledglings.
Flowers and weeds of every kind
And so stands caim and childlike,
Oh, where l like hun exalted,
And my songs,—green leaves and blossoms,-
Calling, even in storm and tempest,
THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBlLL.
FROM THE GERMAN OF JULlUS MOSEN.
On the cross the dying Savionr
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm. Feels, bnt scareely feels, a trembling
ln his piereed and bleeding palm. And by all the world forsaken.
Sees he how with zealons care At the rnthiess nail of iron
A little bird is striving there. Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease. From the cross 'twonld free the Savionr
Its Creators Son release.
And the savionr speaks in mildness;
"Blest be thon of all the good! Bear as token of this moment,
Marks of blood and holy rood!"
And that bird is called the crossbill:
Covered all with blood so clearln the groves of pine it sfngeth Tongs like legends strange to hear.
THE SEA HATH lTS PEARLS. FROM THE GERMAN OF HElN1UC1I HElNE.
The sea hath its pearls.
The heaven hath its stars Bnt my heart, mv heart,
My heart hath Its love.
Great are the sea and the heaven;
Yet greater is my heart.
Flashes and beams my love.
Thon little, yonthfnl maiden,
Come nnto my great heart;
Are welting away with love!
POETlC APHORlSMS AND CURFEW.
rROJI THE SINNGEDlCHTE OF FRIEDRlCH VON LOGAU, SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
Whereunto is money good?
THE BEST MEDlClNES.
Joy and Temperance and Reposo
Manlike is it. to fall into sin. Fiendlike is it to dwell therein, Christlike is it for sin to grieve, God-like is it all sin to leave.
POVERTY AND BLlNDNESS.
A Rlind man is a poor man, and blind a poor man
is; For the former sceth no man, and the latter no
LAW OF LlFE.
Live l. so live I.
Lutheran. Popish. Cnlvinistie, all these creeds and doctrines three
Extant are; bnt still the donbt is, where Christianity may be.
THE RESTLESS HEART.
A Millstonr and the lmman heart are driven
ever ronnd: lf they have nothing else to grind, they umst
themselves be gronnd.
CHRlSTlAN LOVE. Whilsom Love Was like a fire, and warmth and
comfort it bespoke: Bnt, nlasl it now is qnenched, and only bites ns
like the smoke.
ART AND TACT.
Intelligence and conrtesy not always are combined; Often in a wooden honse a golden room we find.
Dealing its dole, The Cnrfew Hell
ls begiuning to toll.
Cover the embers.
And pnt ont the light.
And rest with the night.
Dark grow the windows.
Sonnd fades into silence,—
No voice in the chambers,
No sonnd in the hall l Sleep and oblivion
Reigu over all!
1t. The book is completed.
And closed like the day:
Lays it away.
Forgotten they lie;
They darken and die.
Song sinks into silence,
The story is told.
The hearth-stone is cold.
Darker, and darker
Sleep and oblivion
VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
Pleasant it was. when woods were green.
And winds were soft and low. To lie amid some sylvan scene.' Where, the long drooping bonghs between, Shadows dark and suulight sheen
Alternate come and go;
Or where the deuser grove receives
No suulight from above,
The shadows hardly move.
Beneath some patriarehal tree
1 lay upon the gronnd;
With one continuons sonnd,—
A slumbering sonnd,—a sonnd that brings
The feelings of a dream,—
O'er meadow, lake, and stream.
And dreams of that which caunot die,
Bright visious, came to me.
Like ships upon the sea;
Dreams that the sonl of yonth engage,
Ere Faney has been qnelled; Old legends of the monkish page, Traditious of the saint and sago, Tales that have the rime of age.
And chronicles of Eld
And, loving still these quaint old themes
Even in the city's throng I feel the freshuess of the streams, That, crossed by shades and suuny gleams, Water the green land of dreams,
The holy land of song.
Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings
When nestling bnds unfold their wings,
And hishop's-caps have golden rings,
Musing upon many things,
The green trees whispered low and mild;
It was a sonnd of joy!
As if I were a boy;
And ever whispered mild and low,
"Come be a child once more!''
And beckoned solemuly and slow;
Into the blithe and breathing air,
Into the soleum wood.
Like one in prayer 1 stood.
Before me rose an avenne
Of tall and sombrons pines; Abroad their fan-like branches grew. And, where the suushine darted throngh, Spread a vaponr soft and blne,
In long and sloping iines.
And, falling on my weary brain,
Like a fast-falling shower.
As once upon the flower.
Vision of childhood! Stay. ob. stay!
Yet were so sweet and wild! And distant voices seemed to say. "It caunot be! They pass away! .Other themes demand thy lay:
Thon art no more a child I
"The land of Song within thee lies.
Watered by living springs ,
Its clonds are angels' wings.
"Learn, that henceforth thy song shall be, Not monntaius capped with suow,
Nor forests sonnding like the sea.
Nor rivers flowing ceaselessly.
Where the woodlands bend to sec
"There is a forest where the din
Of iron branches sonnds!
Sees not its depths, nor bonnds.
"Athwart the swinging branches cast,
Soft rays of suushine ponr; Then comes the fearful wintry blast: Our hopes, like withered leaves, fall fast; Pallid lips say, 'It is past!
We can return no more!'
"Look then, into thine heart and write!
Yes, into Life's deep stream!
Bo these henceforth thy theme.''
B1TMN TO THE NIGHT.
Ihkaed the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep throngh her marble halls!
From the celestial walls I
I felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Swop o er me from above;
As of the one 1 love.
I heard the sonnds of sorrow and delight.
The manifold, soft chimes.
Like some old poet"s rhymes.
From the cool cisterus of the miduight air
My spirit drank repose; The fonntain of perpetual peace flows Lucre,— From those deep cisterus flow.
0 holy Night! from thee I leara to bear
What man has borne before!
And they complain no more.
Peace! peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer! Descend with broad-winged flight. The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, The best-beloved Night!
A PSALM OF LIFE.
WHAT TIIE HEART OF THK YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALHIST.
Tell me not, in monrnful numbers,
"Life is bnt an empty dream!"
And things.are not what they seem.
And the grave is not its goal;
Was not spoken of the sonl.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow.
Is onr destined end or way;
Flnds us farther than to-day.
And onr hearts, thongh stont and brave,
Funeral marehes to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivonac of Life.
Be a hero in the strife!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
And. departing, leave behind us
Footprints, that perhaps another.
Sailing o'er life's soleum main.
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us. then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Learn to labonr and to wait.
THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
And. with his sickle keen,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have nonght that is fair?" saith he;
"Have nonght bnt the bearded grain? Thongh the breath of these flowers is sweet tome,
I will give them all back again."
He kissed their drooping leaves;
He bonnd them in his sheaves.
"2?7 Ii?rd has need of these flowerets gay."
The Reaper said, and smiled; Dear tokeus of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child.
"They shall all bloom in fields of light.
Trausplanted by my care.
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;
In the fields of light above.
Oh. not in crnelty, not in pain,
The Reaper came that day;
And took the flowers away.
THE LIGHT OF STARS.
The night is come, bnt not too soon;
And sinking silentlv.
Drops down behind the sky.
There is no light in earth or heaven,
Bnt the cold light of stars:
To the red planet Mars.
Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
A hero's armonr gleams.
And earnest thonghts within me rise,
When I behold afar,.
The shield of that red star.
O star of strength! I see thee stand
Thon beckonest with thy mailed hand.
Within my breast there is no light,
1 give the first watch of the night
The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast.
And caim, and self-possessed.
And thon, too, whosoe'er thon art,
That readest this brief psaim,
Be resolnte and caim.
Oh, fear not in a world like this.
And thon shalt know ere long.
To suffer and be strong.
FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.
And the voices of the night
To a holy, caim delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted.
And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful flre-light
Dance upon the parlonr wall'
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
Come to visit me once more:
He. the yonng and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
Weary with the march of life!
They, the holy ones and weakly.
Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly.
Spake with us on earth no more!
And with them the Being Beanteons,
Who unto my yonth was given. More than all things else to love ine,
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine. Takes the vacant chair beside ine,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.
And she sits and gazes at rse,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Uttered not, yet comprehended.
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.
Oll, thongh oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside, If 1 bnt remember ouly
Snch as these have lived and died I
FLOWERS Spaee full welt, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers so blne and golden,
Stars, that in earth's flrmament do shine : —
Stars they are, wherein we read onr history.
As astrologers and seers of eld;
Like the burning stars which they beheld.
Wondrons trnths, and manifold as wondrons,
Bnt not less in the bright flowerets undents
Bright and glorions is that revelation.
Making evident onr own creation.
And the I'oet. faithful and fur-scobig
Of the self-sainc universal being.
Gorgeons flowerets in the suulight shining,
Treumlons leaves, with soft and silver lining.
Brilliant hopes, nil woven in gorgeons tissnes,
Large desires, with most uncertain issnes,
These in flowers and men are more than seeming,
Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming,
Everywhere abont us are they glowing,
Others, their blne eyes with tears o'crflowing.
Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing,
Bnt in arms of brave old Antuum's wearing.
Not alone in meadows and green alleys.
On the monntain-top, ami by the brink Of seqnestered pools in woodland vulleys.
Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink;
Not along in her vast dome of glory,
Bnt in old cathedrals, high and hoary.
In the cottage of the rndest peasant.
In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, Speaking of the Past unto the Present,
Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers;
In all places, then, and in all seasous.
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasous,
And with childlike, credulons affeetion
Emblems of onr own great resurreetion.
THE BELEAGUERED CITY.
I nAVK read, in some old marvellons tale,
That a miduight host of spee/res pale
Beside the Moldau's rushing stream.
With the wan moon overhead. There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
AVhitc as a sea-fog. hmdward bonnd,
The speetral camp was seen.
The river flowed between.
No other voice nor sonnd was there,
Nor drum, nor sentry's pace;
As clonds with clonds embrace.
Bnt. when the old cathedral bell
The white pavilions rose and fell
Down the broad v.rllev fast and far
The tronbled army fled:
The ghastly host was dead.
I have read, in the marvellons heart of man,
That strange and mystic scroti.
Beleagncr'the human sonl.
Encamped beside Life's rushing stream.
In Faney's misty light.
Portentons throngh the night.
Upon its miduight battle-gronnd
The sceptral camp is syen.
Flows the River of Life between.
No other voice, nor sonnd is there.
In the army of the grave;
Bnt the rushing ofLife's wave.
And, when the soleum and deep chureh-bell
Entreats the sonl to pray.
The shadows sweep away.
Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The speetral camp is fled; Faith shineth as a morning-star.
Our ghostly fears are dead.