A feeling of sadness and longing, As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, For, like strains of martial music, Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor, Such songs have power to quiet That follows after prayer. 100 THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. Then read from the treasured volume And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, THE ARROW AND THE SONG. I shot an arrow into the air, I breathed a song into the air, Long, long afterward, in an oak THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. SOMEWHAT back from the village street THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. And from its station in the hall An ancient timepiece says to all, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Halfway up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, With sorrowful voice to all who pass, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" By day its voice is low and light; "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, It calmly repeats those words of awe, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" In that mansion used to be Free-hearted Hospitality; His great fires up the chimney roared; 101 102 THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. But, like the skeleton at the feast, "Forever-never! Never-forever!” There groups of merry children played, O precious hours! O golden prime, And affluence of love and time! Even as a miser counts his gold, Those hours the ancient timepiece told, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" All are scattered now and fled, "Forever-never! Never-forever!” Never here, forever there, The horologe of Eternity THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. "BUILD me straight, O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!" The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his heart was in his work, and the heart A quiet smile played round his lips, And with a voice that was full of glee, And first with nicest skill and art, |