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THE COMMON GRAVE
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood,
HOME: IN WAR-TIME,
SHE turned the fair page with her fairer hand-
Upon the sill
for him who cannot hear The raven croaking at his carrion car.
BEHIND thy pasteboard, on thy battered hack,
Thy lean cheek striped with plaster to and fro,
Thy long spear levelled at the unseen foe,
To make wiseacredom, both high and low,
Rub purblind eyes, and (having watched thee go)
Yet would to-day, when Courtesy grows chill,
Some fire of thine might burn within us still ! Ah ! would but one might lay his lance in rest,
And charge in earnest—were it but a mill.
THE SEA CAVE.
HARDLY we breathe, although the air be free :
Go, take thine angle, and with practised line,
Light as the gossamer, the current sweep;
And if thou failest in the calm still deep, In the rough eddy may the prize be thine. Say thou'rt unlucky where the sunbeams shine ;
Beneath the shadow, where the waters creep,
Perchance the monarch of the brook shall leapFor fate is ever better than design. Still persevere ; the giddiest breeze that blows,
For thee may blow, with fame and fortune rife; Be prosperous—and what reck if it arose
Out of some pebble with the stream at strife, Or that the light wind dallied with the boughs ?
Thou art successful ;-—such is human life.