Earth-that passes like a shade, Vain as lightest shade can be ; O'er its fairest, greenest bough: Watch, I say; the dying worm O'er the thoughts thou smil'st on now. -Spanish of Velasco. THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM. You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason, I pray. In the days of my youth, Father William replied, I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last. You are old, Father William, the young man cried, And yet you lament not the days that are gone, In the days of my youth, Father William replied, You are old, Father William, the young man cried, And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, Now tell me the reason, I pray. I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied, Let the cause thy attention engage; In the days of my youth I remember'd my God! And He hath not forgotten my age. ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843. THE CHOICE. IF Heaven the grateful liberty would give, Better, if on a rising ground it stood, On this side fields, on that a neighbouring wood, Methinks 'tis naseous, and I'd ne'er endure, Nor should the sons of poverty repine Too much at fortune; they should taste of mine ; And all that objects of true pity were, Should be relieved with what my wants could spare For what our Maker has too largely given, Should be return'd in gratitude to Heaven. JOHN POMFRET, 1667-1703. MORN, NOON, AND EVE. In the morning of life, like the morning of day, spring. In the noontide of life, like the noontide of day, And our hearts are awaked by the sunlight of love : The young rose of beauty is fair to our eye, And all blooming and pure in our bosom 'tis laid; And we wish in our bosom it ever could lie, Unwither'd by tempest, unclouded by shade. In the evening of life, like the evening of day, The shadows descend on the woods and the bowers; And we look for the friends that were lovely and gay, But alas! they have moulder'd to dust like the flowers: Yet the star of the twilight appears in the sky, To bear her bright lamp to the gate of the morn— So faith points our way to a region on high, Where the friends shall be found that had left us forlorn. -Songs of Israel. WILLIAM KNOX, 1789-1825. ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN CONFIDE ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil mind, Though press'd an' hemm'd on every side, hae faith an' ye'll win through, For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. |