« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
His hair is crisp, and black and long;
His brow is wet with honest sweat-
He earns whatever he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
Like the sexton ringing the village bell,
And children, coming home from school,
They love to see the flaming forge,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
He goes on Sunday to the church,
He hears the parson pray and preach--
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice
..He needs must think of her once more,
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
Our fortunes must be wrought-
GREAT LIVES IMPERISHABLE.
To be cold and breathless-to feel not and speak not-this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington, indeed, shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of Independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, "make it life to live," these cannot expire:
"These shall resist the empire of decay,
When time is o'er, and worlds have pass'd away;
But that which warm'd it once can never die."
ABOU BEN ADHEM.
[Solemnly and tenderly.]
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
THE UNLUCKY LOVERS.-A Tale of Japan.
[In a lively vein.]
Fanny Foo-Foo was a Japanese girl,
A child of the great Tycoon;
She wore her head bald, and her clothes were made
Half petticoat, half pantaloon;
Her face was the color of lemon peel,
And the shape of a table spoon.
A handsome young chap was Johnny Hi-Hi,
His glossy black hair on the top of his head
His eyes slanted downward, as if some chap
Fanny Foo-Foo loved Johnny Hi-Hi,
He popped, she blushed such a deep orange tinge,
And her charming wide mouth smile.
And oft in the bliss of their new born love,
All around in spots, enjoying themselves
On which she thought she could play.
Often he'd climb to a high ladder's top,
And quietly there repose,
As he stood on his head and fanned himself
Or else she would get in a pickle tub,
The course of true love, even in Japan,
And the fierce Tycoon, when he heard of this,
Used Japanese oaths so tough
That his courtiers' hair would have stood on end If only they'd had enough.
So the Tycoon buckled on both his swords,
And went out to hunt for the truant pair,
He found them enjoying their guileless selves
Sternly he ordered the gentle Foo-Foo
And he told Hi-Hi to go to a place
I won't say precisely where.
Then he dragged off his child, whose spasms evinced Unusually wild despair.
But the Tycoon, alas! was badly fooled,
Despite his paternal pains,
For John, with a toothpick, let all the blood
Out of his jugular veins;
While with a back somersault on to the floor
They buried them both in the Tycoon's lot,
Where they could list to the nightingale and
And where the mosquito's sorrowful chant
And often at night, when the Tycoon's wife
His almond shaped eyeballs looked on a sight
A NIGHT WITH A WOLF.
[With expression and awe.]
Little one, come to my knee!