Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Hangs o'er the hidden orb; or where a few
Long, narrow stripes of denser, darker grain,
At each end sharpened to a needle's point,
With golden borders, sometimes straight and smooth.
And sometimes crinkling like the lightning-stream,
A half-hour's space above the mountain lie;
Or when the whole consolidated mass,
That only threatened rain, is broken up
Into a thousand parts, and yet is one-
One as the ocean broken into waves;
And all its spongy parts, imbibing deep
The moist effulgence, seem like fleeces dyed
Deep scarlet, saffron light, or crimson dark,
As they are thick or thin, or near or more remote,
All fading soon, as lower sinks the sun,

Till twilight end. But now another scene
To me most beautiful of all, appears :

The sky, without the shadow of a cloud,
Throughout the west, is kindled to a glow
So bright and broad, it glares upon the eye-
Not dazzling, but dilating with calm force
Its power of vision to admit the whole.
Below, 'tis all of richest orange dye;
Midway, the blushing of the mellow peach
Paints not, but tinges the ethereal deep;
And here, in this most lovely region, shines,
With added loveliness, the evening-star.
Above, the fainter purple slowly fades,
Till changed into the azure of mid-heaven.
Along the level ridge, o'er which the sun
Descended, in a single row arranged,
As if thus planted by the hand of Art,

Majestic pines shoot up into the sky,

And in its fluid gold seem half dissolved.
Upon a nearer peak, a cluster stands

With shafts erect, and tops converged to one,
A stately colonnade, with verdant roof;
Upon a nearer still, a single tree,

With shapely form, looks beautiful alone;
While, farther northward, through a narrow pass
Scooped in the hither range, a single mount
Beyond the rest, of finer smoothness seems,
And of a softer, more ethereal blue,
A pyramid of polished sapphire built.

But now the twilight mingles into one
The various mountains; levels to a plain
This nearer, lower landscape, dark with shade,
Where every object to my sight presents
Its shaded side; while here upon these walls,
And in that eastern wood, upon the trunks
Under thick foliage, reflective shows
Its yellow lustre. How distinct the line
Of the horizon, parting heaven and earth!

A

Emma C. Embury.

CHEERFULNESS.

GENTLE heritage is mine,
A life of quiet pleasure:
My heaviest cares are but to twine
Fresh votive garlands for the shrine
Where 'bides my bosom's treasure;

I am not merry, nor yet sad,

My thoughts are more serene than glad.

I have outlived youth's feverish mirth,
And all its causeless sorrow:

My joys are now of nobler birth,
My sorrows too have holier birth,

And heavenly solace borrow;
So, from my green and shady nook,
Back on my by-past life I look.

The Past has memories sad and sweet,
Memories still fondly cherished,
Of love that blossomed at my feet,
Whose odours still my senses greet,

E'en though the flowers have perished
Visions of pleasures passed away
That charmed me in life's earlier day.

The Future, Isis-like, sits veiled,

And none her mystery learneth;

Yet why should the bright cheek be paled, For sorrows that may be bewailed

When Time our hopes inureth?

Come when it will, Grief comes too soon-
Why dread the night at highest noon?

I would not pierce the mist that hides
Life's coming joy or sorrow;

if sweet Content with me abides
While onward still the present glides,
I think not of the morrow;
It may bring griefs-enough for me
The quiet joy I feel and see.

Henry Ware, Ir.

SEASONS OF PRAYER.

To prayer, to prayer!—for the morning breaks,

And Earth in her Maker's smile awakes.

His light is on all below and above-
The light of gladness, and life, and love.
Oh, then, on the breath of this early air,
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer.

To prayer
!—for the glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of night comes on.
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows,
To shade the couch where His children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night

To prayer!—for the day that God has blest
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of creation's early bloom;

It speaks of the Prince who burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours.

There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new-born infant beside her lies.
Oh, hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With rapture a mother only knows.
Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to Heaven for her precious care.

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band,
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parents and home farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.
Kneel down by the dying sinner's side,
And pray for his soul through Him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow-
Oh, what is earth and its pleasures now!
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?

Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upward bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;

For his last thoughts are God's, his last words praye

The voice of prayer at the sable bier!

A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.

It commends the spirit to GOD who gave;

It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave!
It points to the glory where He shall reign,
Who whispered, "Thy brother shall rise again."

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise,
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »