He that can love unloved again, Hath better store of love than brain: God send me love my debts to pay, While unthrifts fool their love away.
Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,
If thou hadst still continued mine;
Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own,
I might perchance have yet been thine.
But thou thy freedom did recall,
That if thou might elsewhere inthrall;
And then how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remain?
When new desires had conquer'd thee,
And changed the object of thy will,
It had been lethargy in me,
Not constancy, to love thee still.
Yea, it had been a sin to go
And prostitute affection so,
Since we are taught no prayers to say
To such as must to others pray.
Yet do thou glory in thy choice,
Thy choice of his good fortune boast;
I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice,
To see him gain what I have lost;
The height of my disdain shall be,
To laugh at him, to blush for thee;
To love thee still, but go no more
A begging to a beggar's door.
BY THE REV. DR. MALTBIE D. BABCOCK
Lord, let me make this rule,
To think of life as school,
And try my best
To stand each test,
And do my work
And nothing shirk.
Should some one else outshine
This dullard head of mine,
Should I be sad?
I will be glad.
To do my best
Is Thy behest.
If weary with my book
I cast a wistful look
Where posies grow
O let me know
That flowers within
Are best to win.
Dost take my book away
Anon to let me play,
And let me out
To run about?
I grateful bless
Thee for recess.
Then recess past, alack,
I turn me slowly back.
On my hard bench
My hands to clench,
And set my heart
To learn my part.
These lessons Thou dost give
To teach me how to live,
To do, to bear,
To get and share,
To work and pray
And trust alway.
What though I may not ask
To choose my daily task?
Thou hast decreed
To meet my need.
What pleases Thee,
That shall please me.
Some day the bell will sound Some day my heart will bound,
As with a shout
That school is out
And lessons done,
I homeward run!
"Animula, vagula, blandula.”- EMPEROR HADRIAN
BY ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD
Life! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met
I own to me's a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be,
As all that then remains of me.
O, whither, whither dost thou fly,
Where bend unseen thy trackless course,
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame,
From whence thy essence came,
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter's base encumbering weed?
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank, oblivious years the appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou, without thought or feeling be?
O, say what art thou, when no more thou 'rt thee?
Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; "Tis hard to part when friends are dear,
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
I said one year ago,
"I wonder, if I truly kept
A list of days when life burnt low,
Of days I smiled and days I wept,
If good or bad would highest mount
When I made up the year's account?
I took a ledger fair and fine,
"And now," I said, "when days are glad,
I'll write with bright red ink the line,
And write with black when they are bad,
So that they'll stand before my sight
As clear apart as day and night.
"I will not heed the changing skies,
Nor if it shine nor if it rain;
But if there comes some sweet surprise,
Or friendship, love or honest gain,
Why, then it shall be understood
That day is written down as good.
"Or if to any one I love
A blessing meets them on the way,
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