To-day-while hearts with rapture spring, To-day-the blooming spouse may press To-day-the clasping babe may drain To-day-the merry heart may feast To-morrow! Mortal, boast not thou WILLIAM KNOX, 1789-1825. -Harp of Zion. THE BRIDGE. I STOOD On the bridge at midnight, I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me, Like a golden goblet falling And sinking into the sea. And far in the hazy distance Among the long, black rafters And the current that came from the ocean As sweeping and eddying through them And streaming into the moonlight The seaweed floated wide. And like those waters rushing A flood of thought came o'er me How often, oh, how often, In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky! How often, oh, how often, I had wish'd that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom O'er the ocean wild and wide! For my heart was hot and restless, But now it has fallen from me, Yet whenever I cross the river On its bridge with wooden piers, Like the odour of brine from the ocean, Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands Of care-encumber'd men, Each bearing his burden of sorrow, Have cross'd the bridge since then. I see the long procession Still passing to and fro; The young heart, hot and restless, And for ever, and for ever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions, The moon, and its broken reflection, As the symbol of love in heaven, -American. H. W. LONGFELLOW, 1807— WHEEL SONG. JUST as we spin, of old 'tis said Queen Bertha used to twine the thread...I spin. Winter's dark hours flow blithely on. We spin, my girl and I. When my neighbour comes at night While I twist the whistling thread The daily task is quickly said...I spin. Frisks round my wheel in careless joy. We may gossip as we spin, But to backbite is a sin...I spin. They who slander soon shall find Coarse and rough the thread they wind. Twist it neither slack nor tight. Keep between and 'twill be right...I spin. Girls who think of lovers, go Always over fast or slow. We spin, my girl and I. Oil your wheel, that turning round Sweetener that of every toil! We spin, my girl and I. Maid whose wheel turns gratingly |