HYMN TO THE NIGHT. Ασπασίη, τρίλλιστος. I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light I felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, From the cool cisterns of the midnight air The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,- O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, 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 THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is real! Life is earnest! Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, In the world's broad field of battle, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Lives of great men all remind us Footprints, that perhaps another, Let us, then, be up and doing, THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves; 'It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The Reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. "They shall all bloom in fields of light, And saints, upon their garments white, And the mother gave, in tears and pain, O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 'T was an angel visited the green earth, THE LIGHT OF STARS. THE night is come, but not too soon; All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky There is no light in earth or heaven, Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? O no! from that blue tent above, A hero's armour gleams. And earnest thoughts within me rise, Suspended in the evening skies, O star of strength! I see thee stand Within my breast there is no light, The star of the unconquered will, And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, O fear not in a world like this, FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; |