And some to happy homes repair, Where children, pressing cheek to cheek, With mute caresses shall declare The tenderness they cannot speak. And some, who walk in calmness here, Shall shudder as they reach the door Where one who made their dwelling dear, Its flower, its light, is seen no more. Youth, with pale cheek and slender frame, Keen son of trade, with eager brow! Who of this crowd to-night shall tread Some, famine-struck, shall think how long The cold dark hours, how slow the light! And some, who flaunt amid the throng, Shall hide in dens of shame to-night. Each, where his tasks or pleasures call, They pass, and heed each other not. There is Who heeds, Who holds them all, In His large love and boundless thought. These struggling tides of life that seem W. C. BRYANT, 1798 American. LABOUR, UNIVERSAL. HEART of the People! Working Men! Through streaming Time this world of ours; Hold by that title,-which proclaims, That ye are undismay'd and strong, Accomplishing whatever aims May to the sons of earth belong. Yet not alone on you depend These offices, or burthens fall; Labour for some or other end Is lord and master of us all. The high-born youth from downy bed Must meet the morn with horse and hound, While Industry for daily bread Pursues afresh his wonted round. With all his pomp of pleasure, he Is but your working comrade now, Of warm repose and careless joy,— But who is this with wasted frame, Pleasure, for Pleasure's sake besought. How men would mock her flaunting shows, Her golden promise, if they knew What weary work she is to those Who have no better work to do! And he who still and silent sits In closed room or shady nook, With folded arm or open book :- Till from his busy thoughts they flow. Thus all must work—with head or hand, Where we deny the healthy seed,- Then in content possess your hearts, And an increase of good for man. RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES, 1809 OLD AGE AND DEATH. THE seas are quiet when the winds give o'er ; So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries, The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, As they draw near to their eternal home. EDMUND WALLER, 1605-1687. THE WORLD. SOME call the world a dreary place, Of sunshine to be found below. They point, when autumn winds are sighing, They mark the rainbow's fading light, They liken Life unto the stream That, swift and shallow, pours along; But beauty marks the rippling gleam, And music fills the bubbling song. K |