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Speeding Saturn cannot halt ;
R. W. EMERSON.
41. This day we live in iss better than any day that wass before, or iss to come, bekass it iss here and we are alive.
R. W. EMERSON.
The mind, that ocean where each kind
44. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burdens loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
Who, grown familiar with the sky, will grope
Wrong ever builds on quicksands, but the right
J. R. LOWELL. SHORT POEMS TO BE USED IN EXERCISES OF THE
VARIETIES ILLUSTRATED IN THE LESSONS OF PART I.
1.–ABOU BEN ADHEM. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace. And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold : Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, “What writest thou?” The vision raised its head And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.” “And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still ; and said, “I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.” The angel wrote, and vanished; the next night It came again with a great wakening light And showed the names whom love of God had blest,And lo, Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
11.—THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN.
The pairtricks down the rushy holm
Set up their e'ening ca'.
Rings through the briery shaw,
Around the castle wa'.
Beneath the golden gloamin' sky
The mavis mends her lay ;
To charm the ling'ring day;
Their little nestlings torn,
The roses fauld their silken leaves,
The foxglove shuts its bell; The honeysuckle and the birk
Spread fragrance through the dell.
Of mirth and revelry,
Mine be a cot beside the hill ;
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear :
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet gown and apron blue.
The village church among the trees,
Where first our marriage-vows were given,
Rained on thy bed
And now, as fresh and cheersul as the light,
V.-THE LOST LOVE.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove;
And very few to love.