DAUGHTERS OF TOIL. And as I mused on later days, When moved she in her matron duty, A happy mother, in the blaze Of ripened hope and sunny beauty I felt the chill-I turned aside Bleak Desolation's cloud came o'er me; And Being seemed a troubled tide, Whose wrecks in darkness swam before me! 205 WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. Daughters of Toil. PALE with want and still despair, And faint with hastening others' gain! Whose finely fibered natures bear The double curse of work and pain; Whose days are long with toil unpaid, And short to meet the crowding want; Whose nights are short for rest delayed, And long for stealthy fears to haunt-- To whom my lady, hearing faint The distance-muffled cry of need, Grants, through some alms-dispensing saint, The cup of water, cold indeed; The while my lord, pursuing gains Amid the market's sordid strife, With wageless labor from your veins Wrings out the warm, red wine of life,— What hope for you that better days Shall climb the yet unreddened east? When famine in the morning slays, Why look for joy at mid-day feast? Far shines the Good, and faintly throws His face against the window-pane. What hope for you that mansions free O brothers! sisters! who would fain One note of some despairing cry-- By tangled social bands perplexed, EVANGELINE M. JOHNSON. M The Convict Ship. ORN on the waters !—and purple and bright Bursts on the billows the flushing of light! O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun, See the tall vessel goes gallantly on: Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail, And her pennant streams onward, like hope in the gale! The winds come around her in murmur and song, And the surges rejoice as they bear her along! THE CONVICT SHIP. Upward she points to the golden-edged clouds, Bright as the visions of youth ere they part, Night on the waves !—and the moon is on high, Bright and alone on the shadowy main, Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain! Spreading her wings on the bosom of night, 'Tis thus with our life while it passes along, Like a vessel at sea amid sunshine and song! Gayly we glide in the gaze of the world, With streamers afloat and with canvas unfurled; 207 All gladness and glory to wandering eyes- As the smiles we put on--just to cover our tears; And the vessel drives on to that desolate shore, Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er ! THOMAS K. HERVEY. When from the Heart. Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits, And clouds the brow, or fills the eye; And bleed within their silent cell. LORD BYRON. The Long-Ago. EYES, which can but ill define Shapes that rise about and near, Through the far horizon's line Stretch a vision free and clear; Yesterday's immediate flow, Find a dear familiar face In each hour of Long-ago. THE LONG-AGO. Follow yon majestic train Down the slopes of old renown; Knightly forms without disdain, Sainted heads without a frown: Emperors of thought and hand As the heart of childhood brings Youthful Hope's religious fire, Ashes of impure desire On the altars it bereaves; But the light that fills the Past Ever farther it is cast O'er the scenes of Long-ago. Many a growth of pain and care, 209 |