Dear, balm is not for griefs like ours; You feel this in your heart, and turn To pace the dimness of your room; But lo, like fire within an urn, The moonlight glows through all the gloom. It sooths you like a living touch, And spite of the slow-falling tears, Sweet memories crowd with oh, so much, Of all that girlhood's time endears. On nights like this, with such a moon, Or on the softer nights of June, When fleecy clouds fled thought-like by, Within our chamber opening east, With curtains from the window parted, With hands and cheeks together prest, We dreamed youth's glowing dreams, lighthearted. Or talked of that mysterious love That comes like fate to every soul, And vowed to hold our lives above, Perchance its sorrowful control. Alas, the very vow we made, To keep our lives from passion free, To wiser hearts well had betrayed Some future love's intensity. How well that youthful vow was kept, Is written on a deathless pageVain all regrets, vain tears we've wept, The record lives from age to age. But one who "doeth all things well," Who made us differ from the throng, Has it within his heart to quell This torturing pain of thirst, ere long. And you, whose soul is all aglow With fire Prometheus brought from heaven, Shall in some future surely know Joys for which high desires are given. Not always in a restless pain Shall beat your heart, or throb your brow; Not always shall you sigh in vain For hope's fruition, hidden now. Beloved, are your tear-drops dried? The moon is riding high above:Though each from other 's parted wide, We have not parted early love. And tho' you never are forgot, The moonrise in the east shall be The token that my evening thought Returns to home, and love and thee! SOUVENIR. You ask me, "Do you think of me?" Dear, thoughts of thee are like this river, Which pours itself into the sea, Yet empties its own channel never. All other thoughts are like this sail Drifting the river's surface over; They veer about with every gale— The river keeps its course forever. So deep and still, so strong and true, The current of my soul sets thee-ward, Thy river I, my ocean you, And all myself am running seaward. LOST AT SEA. A FLEET set sail upon a summer sea: 'Tis now so long ago, I look no more to see my ships come home; But in that fleet sailed all 'twas dear to me. Ships never bore such precious freight as these, Please God, to any woe. His world is wide, and they may ride the foam, Secure from danger, in some unknown seas. But they have left me bankrupt on life's change; Regretful tears upon the blank account, Oh, mystic wind of fate, dost hold my dower Of all my treasure ventured what amount RIVER. Through deep ravine, through burning, barren plain, Through wild and rocky strait, Through forest dark, and mountain rent in twain, Toward the sunset gate. —Sunset at Mouth of Columbia River. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. QUOTATIONS. TENNYSON. Poet, I come to touch thy lance with mine; In English song; nor will I keep concealed, Who craze the brain with their delirious dance Never stoops the soaring vulture -The Light of Stars. DESTINY. ART. -Ibid. Art is the child of Nature; yes, All her majestic loveliness Chastened and softened and subdued Into a more attractive grace, And with a human sense imbued. He is the greatest artist, then, Whether a pencil or a pen, Who follows Nature. Never man, Pursuing his own fantasies, Can touch the human heart, or please Or satisfy our nobler needs, As he who sets his willing feet -Keramos. Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay, Mine is the month of Roses; yes, and mine I am the mother of all dear delights; -The Poet's Calendar. NIGHT. The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. -The Day is Done. For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion, That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together. -The Courtship of Miles Standish. |