WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. O POET, crowned with song's supremest powers, GALATEA. ART thou a dream? When fled to thine Thy presence holdeth love's rich wine, Thine absence ne'er to me is known, IN THE CEMETERY AT FRANKFORT. I WANDER in a city, tranquil, fair, Upon whose towers the sun's departing beam And still above, blue heavens of which we dream, And souls of them who sleep the glory wear. They sleep, to wake unfettered of the clay— The brave, enshrined within a nation's heartAre they unmindful of our love to-day? Each soul, well-rounded howso'er thou art, Eternity be good to thee, we pray! I wander in a city, tranquil, fair, I can but think, of all earth's joy 'twere best To sleep amid so much of beauty there, Resigning all on Nature's tender breast, Far from the strife of worlds that do and dare! O blest foreshadow of most perfect rest! O heights of God-the soul's eternal share! HEART OF THE ROSE. WHO knows the inmost heart of the rose, Altho' in my heart thy beauty grows, Purely my Love, and still more true, May wear thee worthily, without rue; A ROSE. (Pressed in a favorite volume of the In Memoriam of Tennyson.) Is aught so sweet as is this faded rose? Her sorrow to a tender-hearted breeze. And in that self-same corner there mused I All in a waste of thoughts like unto these: All glory in oblivion must lie, All beauty know consuming earth and cease. And then that breeze love-blown sighed softly near, Inside my window, tenderest breath that blows Rose of the ruin and the dust of here, And minded me of that neglected rose; I found, I clasped it with a hungry cheer, And be, to whomso reads, this meaning rise, L LUCIE C. HAGER. UCIE CAROLINE HAGER was born in Littleton, Mass., December 29th, 1853. Her parents were Robert Dunn Gilson and Lydia Gilson. There were nine children in the family, of whom Mrs. Hager was the youngest. Heavy and peculiar trials attended her childhood, which were calculated to expel poetic aspirations from a mind less delicately and sensitively organized, supplanting them by practical thoughts and tendencies, yet these circumstances deepened and intensified her poetical nature, while the more practical side of her character was strongly developed. She had a thirst for knowledge and used all available means to satisfy it. Having entered the Normal School in Framingham, Mass., in 1875, she was recalled to her home during the first weeks of the school year, and her studies were exchanged for days of patient watching with the sick, or such employment as she could obtain near her home. Her first poems appeared at that time. With such private instruction as her country home afforded, she again took up her studies, becoming in time a successful teacher of country schools and later a book-keeper. In October, 1882, her marriage to Mr. Simon B. Hager occurred. She has one child, a boy. Most of her poems have appeared over the name "Lucie C. Gilson." She has also written a number of short prose stories. Her estimate of her own work is modest in the extreme and she has done little to bring herself before the public. Mrs. Hager has recently written and published a very interesting history of the town in which she resides, "Roxborough, a New England Town and its People." SOWING AND REAPING. J. M. R. In spring we plough the field and till the soil, The blades of green begin to clothe the land. Then carefully we work, we watch, we wait, While nourished by the summer sun and rain, Till 'neath the autumn skies with hearts elate, We gather in at last the ripened grain. And so, if we, in Life's fair autumn days, Would garner in the fruit of loving deeds, Of Christian word and work, in all our ways, We must in early springtime sow the seeds. Sometimes in the earth-strife, weary, Cheered not by kind look or tone, We forget Life's journey, dreary, Leadeth daily nearer Home. We forget no crown is given Him who doth the cross disown; Brighter, that for which we've striven, When at last we're gathered Home. Sweet the rest enjoyed at even, When the laborer's toil is done, Sweeter far the rest of Heaven, When the Father calls, “Come Home." "Almost Home!" O, Father guide me Upward till I reach Thy throne; From earth's bitter tempests hide me, Take my hand and lead me home. HERE AND THERE. A LITTLE Weeping over glad hopes perished, A little mourning o'er the task undone. In Him who ever doeth what is best, A little longer here, the billows breasting, Which else would bear us farther from our rest. And there beside the quiet crystal river, 'Mid pastures green and fair shall we repose; No tears shall dim the eyes nor sorrow ever Shall enter there nor aught of human woes; The Savior's presence makes the whole land glorious, And there at last, we'll see Him face to face, When over all these earthly things victorious We enter into Heaven, our dwelling place. ARBUTUS. On a brown and sheltered hillside, From their nest beneath the leaves. One short year ago and round me Smoother grew beneath my feet, Bloomed hope's flowerets, fair and sweet. Shut forever from my sight. But the frail, sweet springtime blossoms A THOUGHT. GLAD sunshine clothes the world to-day, And, as we feel its cheering ray, So full of light and warmth, we say, Oh, would 'twere always thus to stay! The hills and vales are glorified; O, that no cloud might never hide The sunny heavens so high, So earthly friends are near to-day, TWILIGHT. THE day with its cares is closing, The rocks and rills, And the pines beyond the wold. -Work for God. |