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THE CLOUD. DARK and dismal as the tomb
To the wretch condemn'd to die, So
yon cloud with sickly gloom
Overspreads the cheerful sky. While the shadows which it traces
Thus obscure this lower scene,
All is sunny and serene.
Let us take the comfort given-
THE OPEN WINDOW.
Stood silent in the shade,
The light and shadow play'd.
Wide open to the air ;
They were no longer there.
Was standing by the door ;
Who would return no more.
They walk'd not under the lindens,
They play'd not in the hall ;
Were hanging over all.
With sweet familiar tone;
Will be heard in dreams alone.
He could not understand
CHARITY. The secret that doth make a flower a flower So frames it that to bloom is to be sweet, And to receive to give. No soil so sterile, and no living lot So poor, but it hath somewhat still to spare In bounteous odours. Charitable they Who, be their having more or less, so have That less is more than need, and more is less Than the great heart's goodwill.
THE CHILD AND THE LILY. INNOCENT Child and snow-white flower! Well are ye pair'd in your opening hour, Thus should the pure and the lovely meet, Stainless with stainless, and sweet with sweet. White, as those leaves just blown apart, Are the pliant folds of thy own young heart; Guilty passion and cankering care Ne'er yet have left their traces there.
Artless one! though thou gazest now
THE PASSING BELL. As slow and solemn yonder deepening knell Tolls through the sullen evening's shadowy gloom, Alone and pensive in my silent room, On man and on mortality I dwell. And as the harbinger of death I hear, Frequent and full, much do I love to muse On life's distempered scenes of hope and fear, And passion varying her chameleon hues, And man pursuing pleasure's empty shade Till death dissolves the vision. So the child In youth's gay morn with wondering pleasure guiled, As with the shining ice well pleased he play'd ; Nor as he grasps the crystal in his play, Heeds how the faithless bauble melts away.
THE SHIP. STATELY yon vessel sails adown the tide,
To some far distant land adventurous bound, The sailors' busy cries, from side to side,
Pealing among the echoing rocks, resound ; A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band,
Joyful they enter on their ocean way; With shouts exulting, leave their native land,
And know no care beyond the present day. But is there no poor mourner left behind,
Who sorrows for a child or husband there? Who, at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer So may her voice be heard, and heaven be kind, Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
DURING A TEMPEST.
On the poor mariner! In comfort here,
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear The blast that rages with resistless power. What were it now to toss upon
the waves, The maddened waves, and know no succour near ; The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves ?
And in the dread of death to think of her
D ECA Y.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang Upon these boughs, which shake against the cold
Bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
The lapse of time and rivers is the same;