THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

TOR, LENOX

FOUNDATIONS

A GOOD HOPE.

19

TH

"WHY THIS WASTE?"

~HAT eyes which pierced our inmost being through; That lips which pressed into a single kiss

It seemed a whole eternity of bliss;

That cheeks which mantled with love's rosy hue;
That feet which wanted nothing else to do

But run upon love's errands, this and this;
That hands so fair they had not seemed amiss
Reached down by angels through the deeps of blue, -
That all of these so deep in earth should lie
While season after season passeth by;

That things which are so sacred and so sweet
The hungry roots of tree and plant should eat!
Oh for one hour to see as thou dost see,
My God, how great the recompense must be !
JOHN WHITE CHADWICK.

A GOOD HOPE.

Y own hope is a sun will pierce

MY

The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;

That after last returns the first,

Though a wide compass round be fetched;
That what began best can't end worst,
Nor what God blest once prove accurst.

ROBERT BROWNING.

WHEN

SLEEP.

HEN to soft Sleep we give ourselves away,
And in a dream as in a fairy bark
Drift on and on through the enchanted dark
To purple daybreak, little thought we pay
To that sweet-bitter world we know by day.
We are clean quit of it, as is a lark

So high in heaven no human eye can mark
The thin, swift pinion cleaving through the gray.
Till we awake ill fate can do no ill;

The resting heart shall not take up again
The heavy load that yet must make it bleed;

For this brief space the loud world's voice is still,
No faintest echo of it brings us pain.

How will it be when we shall sleep indeed?

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

MY SHELL.

A SHELL upon the sounding sands

Flashed in the sunshine, where it lay:

Its green disguise I tore; my hands
Bore the rich treasure-trove away.

Within, the chamber of the pearl

Blushed like the rose, like opal glowed;

And o'er its domes a cloudy swirl

Of mimic waves and rainbows flowed.

A MYSTERY.

"Strangely," I said, "the artist-worm
Has made his palace-lair so bright!
This jeweller, this draughtsman firm,
Was born and died in eyeless night.

"Deep down in many-monstered caves
His miracle of beauty throve;
Far from all light, against strong waves,
A Castle Beautiful he wove.

"Take courage, Soul! Thy labor blind
The lifting tides may onward bear
To some glad shore, where thou shalt find
Light, and a Friend to say, 'How fair!""

21

THEODORE C. WILLIAMS.

A MYSTERY.

My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirred;

For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

Thus fares it still in our decay;
And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what age takes away

Than what it leaves behind.

The blackbird amid leafy trees,

The lark above the hill,

Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.

With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see

A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free.

But we are pressed by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,

We wear a face of joy because

We have been glad of yore.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

A

IDEALS.

NGELS of Growth, of old in that surprise

Of your first vision, wild and sweet,

I poured in passionate sighs

My wish unwise

That ye

descend my heart to meet,

My heart so slow to rise!

Now thus I pray: Angelic be to hold
In heaven your shining poise afar,
And to my wishes bold,

Reply with cold,

Sweet invitation, like a star

Fixed in the heavens old.