FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH.
FRIENDSHIP doth bind, with pleasant ties,
The heart of man to man, and age
But strengthens it it never dies
Till finished is life's final page.
Love is the sacred link which binds
Hearts joined by friendship firmer still;
Who once has felt it, in it finds
Joys which his soul with pleasure fill.
Truth only can complete the chain,
Its links enduring strength can give;
With this unbroken 't will remain
While e'er the human soul shall live.
My friend, my chum, my trusty crony !
We are designed, it seems to me,
To be two happy lazzaroni,
On sunshine fed, and macaroni,
Far off by some Sicilian sea.
From dawn to eve in the happy land,
No duty on us but to lie.
Straw-hatted on the shining sand,
With bronzing chest and arm and hand
Beneath the blue Italian sky.
There, with the mountains idly glassing
Their purple splendors in the sea-
To watch the white-winged vessels passing
(Fortunes for busier fools amassing),
This were a heaven to you and me.
Our meerschaums coloring cloudy brown,
Two young girls coloring with a blush,
The blue waves with a silver crown,
The mountain shadows dropping down,
And all the air in perfect hush.
Thus should we lie in the happy land,
Nor fame, nor power, nor fortune miss; Straw-hatted on the shining sand. With bronzing chest and arms and hand, Two loafers couched in perfect bliss. CHARLES GRAHAM HALPINE. (Miles O'Reilly.)
WHAT shall I wish thee for the coming year?
Twelve months of dream-like ease? no care? no pain?
Bright spring, calm summer, autumn without rain
Of bitter tears? Wouldst have it thus, my friend?
What lesson, then, were learnt at the year's end?
What shall I wish thee, then? God knoweth well
If I could have my way no shade of woe
Should ever dim thy sunshine; but I know
Strong courage is not learnt in happy sleep,
Nor patience sweet by eyes that never weep.
Ah, would my wishes were of more avail
To keep from thee the many jars of life!
Still let me wish thee courage for the strife,-
The happiness that comes of work well done, –
And, afterwards, the peace of victory won!
WE just shake hands at meeting
With many that come nigh,
We nod the head in greeting
To many that go by.
But we welcome through the gateway
Our few old friends and true;
Then hearts leap up and straightway
There's open house for you,
Old friends,
Wide-open house for you.
The surface will be sparkling,
Let but a sunbeam shine,
But in the deep lies darkling
The true life of.the wine.
The froth is for the many,
The wine is for the few;
Unseen, untouched of any,
We keep the best for you,
Old friends,
The very best for you.
"The many "cannot know us,
They only pace the strand
Where at our worst we show us,
The waters thick with sand;
But out beyond the leaping
Dim surge "'t is clear and blue,"
And there, old friends, we 're keeping
A waiting calm for you,
Old friends,
A sacred calm for you.
SOMETIMES- - not often-when the days are long,
And golden lie the ripening fields of grain,
Like cadence of some half-forgotten song,
There sweeps a memory across my brain.
I hear the handrail far among the grass,
The drowsy murmur in the scented lanes;
I watch the radiant butterflies that pass,
And I am sad and sick at heart sometimes
Sometimes.
Sometimes, when royal winter holds his sway,
When every cloud is swept from azure skies,
And frozen pool and lighted hearth are gay
With laughing lips and yet more laughing eyes,
From far-off days an echo wanders by,
That makes a discord in the Christmas chimes; A moment in the dance or talk I sigh,
And seem half lonely in the crowd sometimesSometimes.
Not often, not for long. O friend, my friend,
We were not lent our life that we might weep:
The flower-crowned May of earth hath soon an end;
Should our fair spring a longer sojourn keep?
Comes all too soon the time of fading leaves,
Come on the cold short days. We must arise And go our way, and garner home our sheaves, Though some far faint regret may cloud our eyes Sometimes.
Sometimes I see a light almost divine
In meeting eyes of two that now are one. Impatient of the tears that rise to mine,
I turn away to seek some work undone. There dawns a look upon some stranger face;
I think, "How like, and yet how far less fair!" And look, and look again, and seek to trace
A moment more your fancied likeness there -
Sometimes.
O sad, sweet thoughts! O foolish, vain regrets!
As wise it were, what time June roses blow,
To weep because the first blue violet
We found in spring has faded long ago.
O love, my love, if yet by song of bird,
By flower-scent, by some sad poet's rhymes, My heart, that fain would be at peace, is stirred, Am I to blame that still I sigh sometimes? Sometimes?
And sometimes know a pang of jealous pain,
That, while I walk all lonely, other eyes
May haply smile to yours that smile again
Beneath the sun and stars of Southern skies.
The past is past; but is it sin, if yet
I, who in calm content would seek to dwell,
Who will not grieve, yet cannot quite forget,
Still send a thought to you, and wish you well
Sometimes?
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