; !

; ; —
; ! —; ; ' ! —
LONGFELLOW'S POEMS.
And ever whispered, mild and low, Nor forests sounding like the Sea,
" Come, be a child once more! " Nor rivers flowing ceaselessly.
And waved their long arms to and Where the woodlands bend to see
fro, The bending heavens below.
And beckoned solemnly and slow
O, I could not choose but go " There is a forest where the din
Into the woodlands hoar; Of iron branches sounds!
Into the blithe and breathing air.
A mighty river roars between.
And whosoever looks therein.
Into tlie solemn wood,
Sees the heavens all black with
Solemn and silent everywhere! sin,
Nature with folded hands seemed Sees not its depths, nor bounds,
there.
Kneeling at her evening prayer 1

Like one in prayer I stood "Athwart the swinging branches

cast,
Before me rose an avenue Soft rays of sunshine pour;
Of tall and sombrous pines Then comes the fearful wintry
Abroad their fan-like branches blast
grew. Our hopes, like withered leaves,
And, where the sunshine darted fall fast
through, I-allid lips say, '
It is past!
Spread a vapor soft and blue We can return no more
!

In long and sloping lines.

" Look, then, into thine heart, and
And, falling on my
weary brain, write!
Like a fast-falling shower, Yes, into Life's deep stream
The dreams of youth came back All forms of sorrow and delight,
again All solemn Voices of the Night,
Low lispings of the summer rain, That can soothe thee, or affright,
Dropping on tlie ripened grain, Be these henceforth thy theme."
As once upon the flower.
Visions of childhood Stay, O I

stay!
Ye were too sweet and wild! IXoTi'ta noTVia. vv^,
And distant voices seemed to say :
viTvohoTiipa. rijiv nokv-noiViuiv ^poTO}Vy
" It cannot be! They pass away '''Epe^oBif i9r /uioAe fi.6\e /taTaTrrepos
''Aya^e^i.voi/LOV eTTt dofjioi''
Other themes demand the lay VTrb yap aKyeuiV^ vtto re trv/ULi^opa?
Thou art no more a child
Euripides.
" The land of Song within thee
lies,
Watered by living springs ;
HYMN TO THE NIGHT.
The Fancy's sleepless eyes
lids of
Are gates unto that Paradise, ''AaTzaaLTj, rpiXkiaruc.

Holy thoughts, like stars, arise.

Its clouds are angels' wings. I HEARD the trailing garments of
the Night
" Learn, that henceforth thy song Sweep through her marble halls 1

shall be, I saw her sable skirts all fringed

Not mountains capped with with light
snow, From the celestial walls I
 — ; ;

THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.

I felt her presence, by its spell of " Dust th(ju art, to dust returnest,"'
miglit, Was not spoken of the soul.
jtoop o'er ine from above
The calm, majestic presence of the Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Night, Is our destined end or way ;

As of the one I love. But to act, tiiat each to-morrow

Finds us farther tiian to-day.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and

Art is long, and Time is fleeting.
delight,
The manifold soft chimes,
And our liearts, tliough stout
and brave,
That the liauuted chambers of
fill
Still, like muflk'il drums, arc beat-
the Night,
ing
Like some old poet's rhymes.
Funeral marches to the grave.
Fi'om the cool cisterns of the mid- In the world's broad field of battle,
night air In the bivouac of Life,
My spirit drank repose; Be not like dumb, driven cattle !

The fountain of perpetual peace Be a hero in tlie strife !

Ht)ws there,
From those deep cisterns flows. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
O holy Night ! from thee I learn to
Act,— act in tlie living Present!
bear Heart witliiu, and God o'erhead.
What man has borne before!
Thou layest thy finger on the lips
Lives of great men all remind us
of Care We can make our lives sublime,
And they complain no more. And, departing, leave bcliind us
Footprints on tlie sands of time ;
Peace ! Peace ! Orestes - like I
breatlie this prayer!
Footprints, tliat perhaps anotlier,
Descend with broad- winged Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
flight,
A forlorn and siiipwrecked
Tlie welcome, the thrice-prayed l)rotlier.
for, flic most fair,
Seeing, sliall take heart again.
The best-beloved Night!
Let be up and (hung.
us, tiicn,
With a lieart for any fate ;

A PSAL:M of LIFE. Still achieving, still jtursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.
WHAT THE HKAUT OK TUK YOUNfi
MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.
Tell me not, in mournful num- THE REAPER AND THE
bers, FLOWERS.
" Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is iload that slum- There is a Reaper, whose name is
bers, Death,
And tilings are not what they And, with his sickle keen.
seem. He reaps tlic bearded grain at a
breath.
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the flowers that grow be
And the grave is not its goal tweeu.
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8 LONGFELLOW'S POEMS.
" Shall I have nought that is And the first watch of night is
fair ? " saith he, given
"Have noughtbut the bearded To the red planet Mars.
grain ?
Though the breath of these flow- Is itthe tender star of love ?
ers is sweet to me, The star of love and dreams?
I will give them all back again." O no from that blue tent above,
!

A hero's armor gleams.

He gazed at the flowers with tear-
ful eyes, And earnest thoughts witliin me
Hekissed their drooping leaves; rise.
It was for tlie Lord of Paradise When I bcliold afar.
He bound them in his sheaves. Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.
" My Lord has need of these flow-
erets gay," star of strength ! I see thee stand
The Reaper said, and smiled And smile upon my pain;
" Dear tokens of the earth are they. Thou bcckonest with thy mailed
Where he was once a child. hand.
And I am strong again.
" They shall all bloom in fields of
"light, Within my breast there is no light.
Transplanted by my care, But the cold light of stars;
And saints, upon their garments 1 give the first watch of the night
wliite, To the red planet Mars.
Their sacred blossoms Avear."
The star of the unconquered will,
And the mother gave, in tears and He
rises in my
breast.
pain, Serene, and resolute, and still.
The flowers she most did love And calm, and self-possessed.
She knew she should find them all
again And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
In the fields of light above. That readest this brief psalm.
As one by one thy hopes depart,
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, Be resolute and calm.
The Reaper came that day
'Twas an angel visited the green O fear not in a world like this.
earth. And thou shalt know ere long,
And took the flowers away. Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.

THE LIGHT OF STARS.

The night is come, but not too FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.
soon
And sinking silently, When the hours of Day are num-
All silently, the little moon bered.
Drops down behind the sky. And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, thai slum-
There is no light in earth or heaven. bered.
Cut the cold light of stars To a holy, calm delight
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FLOWERS. 9
Ere tlie evening lamps are lighted, FLOWERS.
And, like plmutunis grim uud
tall, Sp.\ke full well in language quaint
Shadows from the fitful firelight and olden.
Dance upon the parlor wall One who dwelleth by the castled
Rhine,
Then the forms of the departed When he called the tlowers, so
Enter at the open door; blue and golden.
The beloved, the true-hearted. Stars that in the earth's firma
Come to visit me once more ;
meut do shine.

He, the young and strong, who Stars they are, wherein we read
clierished our history,
Noble longings for the strife. As astrologers and seers of eld ;

By the roadside fell and perished. Yet not wrapped about with awful
Weary with the march of life! myster}'.
Like the burning stars, which
they beheld.
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Wlio tlie cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly, Wondrous truths, and manifold as
Spake with us on earth no more! wondrous,
God hath written in those stars
And wilii them the Being Beaute- above
ous, But not less in the bright flowerets
Who
unto my youth was given. under us
More than all things else to love me. Stands the revelation of his love.
And is now a saint in heaven.
Bright and glorious is that revela-
With a slow and noiseless footstep, tion,
Comes that messenger divine, AVritten all over this great
Takes the vacant chair beside me, world of ours;
Lays lier gentle hand in mine. Making evident our own creation,
In these stars of earth, — these
And she sits and gazes at me golden flowers.
With those deep and tender eyes.
Like the .stars, so si ill and saint- And the Poet, faitiiful and far-
like, seeing.
Looking downward from the Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a
skies. part
Of the Self same, universal being.
Uttered not, yet comprehended, Which is (luobbing in his brain
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, and heart.
Soft rebukes, iti blessings ended,
Bnatliiiig from her lips of air. Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight
shining,
(), though oft depressed and lonely. Blo.ssoms tlaunting in the eye of
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but n;mcinbcr oidy Tremulous leaves, with soft and
Sucii as these have lived and silver lining.
died ! Buds that open only to decay:
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10 LONGFELLOW'S POEMS.
Biilliaut hopes, all woven iu gor- In the cottage of the rudest peas-
geous tissues, ant.
Flaunting gayly in the golden In ancestral homes, whose crum-
light; bling towers.
Large desires with most uncertain Speaking of the Past unto the
issues, Present,
Tender wishes, blossoming at Tell us of the ancient Games of
night! Flowers

These in flowers and men are more In all places, then, and iu all sea-
than seeming; sons.
Workings are they of the self- Flowers expand their light and
same powers. soul-like wings.
Which the Poet, in no idle dream- Teaching us, by most persuasive
ing, reasons,
Seeth in himself and in the How akin they are to human
flowers. things.

Everywhere about us are they And with childlike, credulous af-

glowing. fection
Some like stars, to tell us Spring We behold their tender buds
is born expand
Others, their blue eyes with tears Emblems of our own great resur-
o'erflowiug. rection.
Stand like Ruth amid the golden Emblems of the bright and bet-
corn ter laud.

Not alone in Spring's armorial

bearing. THE BELEAGUERED CITY.
And in summer's green-embla-
zoned tield. I HAVE
read, in some old marvel-
But in arms of brave old Autumn's ous tale
wearing. Some legend strange and vague,
In the center of his brazen shield ;
That a midnight host of specters
pale
Not alone in meadows and green
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
alleys,
On by the
the mountain-top, and Beside the Moldati's rushing
brink stream.
Of sequestered pools in woodland With the wan moon overhead,
valleys. There stood, as in an awful dream,
Where the slaves of Nature The army of the dead.
stoop to drink
White as a sea-fog, landward
Not alone in her vast dome of bound.
glory. The spectral camp was seen,
Not on graves of bird and beast And, witli a sorrowful, deep sound,
alone, The river flowed between.
But in old cathedrals, high and
hoary. No other voice nor sound was
On the tombs of heroes, carved there,
in stone; No drum, nor sentry's pace;