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Whispering I knew not what of wild

and sweet,
Like that strange song I heard

Apollo sing,
While Ilion like a mist rose into

towers.

Once more the old mysterious glim

mer steals From thy pure brows, and from thy

shoulders pure, And bosom beating with a heart re

newed. Thy cheek begins to redden through

the gloom, Thy sweet eyes brighten wly close

to mine, Ere yet they blind the stars, and the

wild team Which love thee, yearning for thy

yoke, arise, And shake the darkness from their

loosened manes, And beat the twilight into flakes of

fire.

Lo! ever thus thou growest beau

tiful In silence, then before thine answer

given Departest, and thy tears are on my

cheek.

Yet hold me not forever in thine

East:
How can my nature longer mix with

thine ?
Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me,

cold Are all thy lights, and cold my

wrinkled feet Upon thy glimmering thresholds,

when the steam Floats up from those dim fields about

the homes Of happy men that have the power

to die, And grassy barrows of the happier

dead. Release me, and restore me to the

ground; Thou seest all things, thou wilt see

my grave: Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by

morn: I earth in earth forget these empty

courts, And thee returning on thy silver wheels.

TENNYSON.

Why wilt thou ever scare me with

thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying

learnt, In days far-off, on that dark earth,

be true? The Gods themselves cannot recall

their gifts.”

I up,

Ay me! ay me! with what another

COME MORIR. heart In days far-off, and with what other HE leaves the earth, and says, eyes

enough and more I used to watch - if I be he that Unto thee have I given, oh Earth. – watched

For all The lucid outline forming round With hand free and ungrudging gave

thee; saw The dim curls kindle into sunny But now I leave thy pale hopes and rings;

dear pains, Changed with thy mystic change,

The rude fields where so many years and felt my blood

I've tilled, Glow with the glow that slowly And where no other feeling gave me crimsoned all

strength, Thy presence and thy portals, while Save that from them my home was

aye in view, Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing For only transient clouds could hide dewy-warm

from ine With kisses balmier than half-open- My spirit's home, whence it came, ing buds

where should go; Of April, and could hear the lips | Enough, more than enough, now let that kissed

me rest.

S. G, W

I lay,

THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL.

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YE sigh not when the sun, his

course fulfilled, His glorious course, rejoicing earth

and sky, In the soft evening, when the winds

are stilled, Sinks where his islands of refresh

ment lie, And leaves the smile of his departure

spread O'er the warm-colored heaven and

ruddy mountain head. Why weep ye then for him, who,

having won The bound of man's appointed

years, at last, Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's

labors done, Serenely to his final has

passed; While the soft inemory of his virtues

yet Lingers like twilight hues, when the bright sun is set ?

BRYANT.

Shall we build to Ambition ? Ah, no!
Affrighted, he shrinketh away,
For see, they would pin him below
In a dark narrow cave, and, begirt

with cold clay, To the meanest of reptiles a fear and

a prey. To Beauty ? Ah, no! she forgets The charms which she wielded be

fore, Nor knows the foul worm that he

frets The skin that but yesterday fools

could adore, For the smoothness it held, or the

tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of Pride, The trappings which dizen the

proud ? Alas! they are all laid aside, And here's neither dress nor adorn

ment allowed, Save the long winding-sheet and the

fringe of the shroud.

DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST.

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Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot

grieve; Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine

ear, Which Compassion itself could re

lieve. Ah, sweetly they slumber, nor love,

hope, or fear, Peace, peace! is the watch word, the

only one here.

Unto Death, to whom monarchs

must bow? Ah, no! for his empire is known, And here there are trophies enow! Beneath the cold head, and around

the dark stone, Are the signs of a sceptre that none

may disown.

Thine individual being, shalt thou

go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock, And to the sluggish clod, which the

rude swain Turns with his share, and treads

upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and

pierce thy mould. Yet not to thy eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone - nor couldst

thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt

lie down With patriarchs of the infant world,

– with kings, The powerful of the earth, — the

wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages

past, All in one nighty sepulchre. The

hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,

the vales Stretching in pensive quietness be

tween; The venerable woods, – rivers that

move In majesty, and the complaining

brooks That make the meadows green; and

poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy

waste, Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The

golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of

heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of

death, Through the still lapse of ages. All

that tread The globe are but a handful to the

tribes That slumber in its bosom. ...

The first tabernacle to Hope we will

build, And look for the sleepers around us

to rise! The second to Faith, which insures

it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the

great sacrifice, Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies.

HERBERT KNOWLES.

THANATOPSIS.

Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no

more

In all bis course; nor yet in the cold

ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with

many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall

exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished

thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth

again; And lost each human trace, sur

rendering up

So live, that when thy summons

comes to join The innumerable

caravan,

that moves To that mysterious realm, where

each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of

death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave

at night,

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