WHY CO stately, Maiden fair, Rising in thy nurse's arms Gathering up thy queenly charms, Like some gorgeous Indian bird, Which, when at eve the balmy copse is stirr'd, Turns the glowing neck, to chide Th' irreverent footfall, then makes haste to hide Again its lustre deep CHILDREN'S THANKFULNESS. Not as yet she comprehends. How the tongues of men reprove, Train'd in Heaven to courteous love, Who for her maiden bounty, full and free, The violet from her gay And guileless bosom, didst no word of thanks repay. Therefore, lo, she opens wide Both her blue and wistful eyes- Little Babes and Angels bright— The sinner's hand in thanklessness receive. We see it and we hear, But wonder not for why? we feel it all too near. Not in vain, when feasts are spread, To the youngest at the board Call we to incline the head, And pronounce the solemn word. Not in vain they clasp and raise How little ones before the Lord may fall, How to His loved caress Reach out the restless arm, and near and nearer press. Children in their joyous ranks, As you pace the village street, CHILDREN'S THANKFULNESS. Never weary, never dim, From Thrones Seraphic mounts th' eternal hymn. But elder souls, to whom His saving ways Are open, fearless take Their portion, hear the Grace, and no meek answer make. Save our blessings, Master, save From the blight of thankless eye; Benediction pure and high, Own them given, endure them gone, Shrink from their hardening touch, yet prize them won: Prize them as rich odours, meet For Love to lavish on His Sacred Feet; Prize them as sparkles bright Of heavenly dew, from yon o'er-flowing well of light. HEARKEN, children of the May, With their treasures blithe and sweet :- But was nursed by weeping skies. Braced the roots, embalmed the flowers. So, if e'er that second Spring, Her green robe o'er you shall fling, Stern self-mastery, tearful prayer, Must the way of bliss prepare. How should else Earth's flowerets prove Meet for those pure crowns above? Same. Keble. THE WAY TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE. "Twixt drowsy hills and sea a sultry noon, A rural Church, some evening funeral o'er- II. The long green avenue, where light and shade Chequering the floor, now play, now sleep profound ; Old pines, the lonely breeze that by them stray'd Wooing in vain; old yews, hiding the ground, Grey oaks, and far-off spires, seem to have found A voice, while busier sounds are dimly spent, As waken'd by the stillness. One around, On pillars of blue light hath spread His tent; And walks with us below in silence eloquent. III. And now we hear Him: thus when Nature's wheel Is still, we find ourselves hurrying along; In crowds ourselves alone we mostly feel; When turbulence of business, and the throng Of passionate hopes, which unto Earth belong, And mould too oft from Earth the rebel will, Sleep; then we hear the mighty undersong, To which loud Niagara's voice is still, And mute the thunders strong which air and ocean fill. IV. O heavenly Love, that o'er us, sin defil'd, With thy blest arm beneath us, leaning low, And knowing knows thee not! Aye! come and go |