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A deeper, sadder, knoll,
Than sounds for a passing soul,—
Goblins of darkness and night,
Hark! to the falling of phantom feet,
Beat, beat, beat, beat,
Like the solemn sounds, when the surges meet,
A rush of wings on the midnight wind—
And the good Old Year, so true and kind,
HOPE ON, HOPE EVER.
Be forlorn and lowly,
Though thy steps move slowly.
On thyself relying,
Strive to win, though lowly born,
In the path that heaven assigned,
Work with might, and soul and mind,
Hope on, hope ever, while the day
If I were a memory past alloy,
I would linger where thou art ;
If I were a hope with the magic light
I would make thy path on the earth as bright
-If I were the Light of the Brightest Star.
BETTER trust all and be deceived,
And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart that, if believed, Had blessed one's life with true believing
O, in this mocking world too fast
Than lose the blessed hope of truth.
ECHO AND SILENCE.
In eddying course when leaves began to fly,
As mid wild scenes I chanced the Muse to woo, Through glens untrod, and woods that frowned on high,
Two sleeping nymphs with wonder mute I spy!
And, lo, she's gone!—In robe of dark-green hue, 'Twas Echo from her sister Silence flew, For quick the hunter's horn resounded to the sky! In shade affrighted Silence melts away.
Not so her sister. Hark! for onward still, With far-heard step, she takes her listening way, Bounding from rock to rock, and hill to hill.
Ah, mark the merry maid in mockful play With thousand mimic tones the laughing forest fill!
SIR SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES.
THE ROSE AND THE GAUNTLET.
Low spake the knight to the peasant maid,
"Thou shalt have pomp and wealth and pleasure, Joys beyond why fancy's measure; Here with my sword and horse I stand,
To bear thee away to my distant land.
"Take, thou fairest! this full-blown rose
The maiden exclaimed, "Thou seest, Sir Knight, Thy fingers of iron can only smite;
An' terrified at what they'd done, an' what they meant to do,
I struggled hard to recollect a Riot Act or two; But naught appeared that I could reach on Memory's cluttered shelf,
An' so I had, as one might say, to make one up myself.
I wildly rushed into their midst, an' yelled with all my might,
"See here, now, boys, this school wasn't built to teach you how to fight!"
But still they all kept on their way, as fierce as fierce could be,
An' nor one of them was blessed with sense to listen unto me;
But while I still upheld the right, in words I won't repeat,
Th' apparent cause of all their fuss rolled plump betwixt my feet!
An' then such buffetin' amidst the angry wave of strife
I never yet had come across in all my earthly life.
I've sported in a skatin'-rink, an' helped to dust the floor;
I've served as drift-wood in the waves of Jersey's stormy shore;
I've clutched a tall toboggan-slide, and while my cheek did blanch,
Then, lettin' go, reluctantly become an avalanche; I've entered cars on Brooklyn Bridge 'twixt five an' six o'clock;
But these was only zephyr breaths beside an earthquake shock!
They jumbled me, they tumbled me, some several fellers deep,
Uutil I give up every sense an' feebly fell asleep; An' when I woke, and mildly asked if all my bones was there,
No one contigious seemed to know, or specially to
But several fellers, with their face all black an' blue an' red,
Jumped up an' down, a-wavin' han's, an' shoutin', "We're ahead!"
"Now who's ahead?" says I, when I a listenin' ear could find:
'Whoever 'tis, here's one old fool that'a several rods behind!
Why are you studyin' carnage here-what is this all about?"
An' then they hollered, "Football, Dad-we've gone an' cleaned 'em out!"
Whereat I says, "If this is what you call a friendly game,
Heaven shield me from your courtesies, an' help me dodge the same!"
Then everybody laughed an' joked, rejoicin' it the crimes,
An' said, "Old man, the trouble is, you're 'way behind the times!"
An' then I said: "All right! I'll keep behind 'em if you please;
'Hind anything, to shield me from such goin's on as these;
An' when I'm anxious suddenly from this world to escape,
I'll go an' dance on dynamite, an' do it up in shape!' WILL CARLETON. -Harper's Magazine, November, 1894.
NOT only in the legend does he stand Beside the river current rushing fast A dim-drawn giant figure, strong and vast, His staff within his hand;
But in our own day visible, beside The darker stream of human pain and sin, Our eyes have watched him, battling hard to win For weaker souls a pathway through the tide.
Upheld by him and safely carried o'er The waves which else had overwhelmed and drowned,
How many a faint and doubting heart hath found Glad footing on the unhoped-for, distant shore!
And still as his strong, tireless arm again And yet again their burden raised and took, You read in the deep reverence of his look
He did the work for God and not for men.
Christo-phorus our saint, named now with tears. The deeds he did were Christ's, the words he said, All his strong, vital, splendid strength he laid At the Lord's feet through the unstinting years.
And now beside that Lord in highest Heaven, Past the dark stream of Death, which all must tread,
He rests secure, with joy upon his head,
And a "New Name" which hath to him been given.
But still to memory's eye he stands the same, A stalwart shape where the deep waters run, Upbearing, aiding, strengthening every one, Carrying them onward in his Lord's dear name. SUSAN COOLIDGE.
-The Independent, November 15, 1894.
SHE wore the leaves of roses in her hair
And waiting with a score of rivals there,
Some new caprice had made my Love forswear
The deep green leaves of hope. Could she have known
That I would know those rose leaves for mine own? Was it to lift a heart from out despair
She wore the leaves?
-Peterson's Magazine, November, 1894.
So blithe the birds sang in the trees, The trees sang in the wind,
I winged me with the morning breeze, And left cares far behind.
But now both birds and trees are mute
And I must up and on afoot.
Or Care will catch me soon. WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. -Harters Magazine, December, 1894.
WHO are the men that good men most despise ?
Who lightly sells his honor as a shield
GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
O NAZARENE! down nineteen hundred years
O, Christos! may thy children, rich and poor,
Where roses bloom, or winter holds its sway;Let all hearts turn to Bethlehem again,
And hear the tidings,-"Peace, good-will to men.” LOUIS A. ROBERTSON. -Overland Monthly. December, 1894.
MACAULAY. "Virginia." The immediate cause of the downfall of this execrable government was said to have been an attempt made by Appius Claudius upon the chastity of a beautiful young girl │of humble birth. A vile dependent of the Claudian house laid claim to the damsel as his slave, but the girl's father, a brave soldier, saved her from servitude and dishonor by stabbing her to the heart in sight of the whole Forum.
NASH. The touching lines, "Sister, I must go!"' were written upon the occasion of the enlistment in the late Civil War, by Miss Hapgood's brother, Henry Hapgood, whose young life of 21 (twentyone) years was sacrificed on his country's altar.
INDEX OF COMPLETE POEMS.
Above the Earth and Time.
After the Ball.
After the Rain.
Aged Stranger, The
Ah! Just to Live is very Sweet.
Alice Cary's Last Poem.
Allen G. Bigelow.
Ballade of the Book Hunter.
Ballade of the Dream.
M. F. Ham
Ballad of Metz, A
Ballad of the Sea, The
Beaver Pond Meadow.
Belshazzar Had a Letter.
Before the Dawn.
Betwixt my Love and Me.
Bird and Song.
Blue and the Black, The
Blue Jay, The
Blue Ribbon, A
D. Williams 130
L. M. Willis
Van Fredenberg 23
M. F. Ham 432
Bois Ton Sang, Beaumanoir!"
Bonnie Girzie O' Glenbrae.
F. H. Tupper 422
M. Douglas 477
M. F. Ham 432
D. M. Craik