HOUSEHOLD POEMS. I HYMN TO THE NIGHT. Ασπασίη, τρίλλιστος. 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, 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 Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer! The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, A PSALM OF LIFE. WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. ELL me not, in mournful numbers, TEL Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, 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, Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, Footprints, that perhaps another, Let us, then, be up and doing, THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. T HERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; 66 Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 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. 9 They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear." And the mother gave, in tears and pain, The flowers she most did love; She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day; 'T was an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. THE LIGHT OF STARS. II THE LIGHT OF STARS. TH HE 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 armor gleams. And earnest thoughts within me rise, The shield of that red star. O star of strength! I see thee stand Within my breast there is no light, The star of the unconquered will, And calm, and self-possessed; |