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Who was he, then? No man could say When the passage had suddenly fallen inIts memory, even, was passed away! In their great rough arms, begrimed with coal, They took him up, as a tender lass Will carry a babe, from that darksome hole, To the outer world of the short warm grass; Then up spoke one, “Let us send for Bess, She is seventy-nine, come Martinmas; “Older than any one here, I guess! Belike, she may mind when the wall fell there, And remember the chap by his comeliness!" So they brought old Bess with her silver hair, To the side of the hill, where the dead man lay, Ere the flesh had crumbled in outer air. And the crowd around them all gave way, As with tottering steps old Bess drew nigh, And bent o'er the face of the unchang'd clay. Then suddenly rang a sharp low cry! Bess sank on her knees, and wildly toss'd

Her wither'd arms in the summer sky,"O, Willie! Willie! my lad! my lost. The Lord be praised! after sixty years I see you again!.... The tears you cost, “O Willie, darlin', were bitter tears! They never looked for ye underground, They told me a tale to mock my fears ! “They said ye were auver the sea—ye'd found A lass ye loved better nor me—to explain

How ye'd a vanish'd fra sight and sound! “O darlin', a long, long life o' pain I ha' lived since then!.... And now I'm old, 'Seems aʼmost as if youth were come back again, “Seeing ye there wi' your locks o' gold, And limbs as straight as ashen beams,

I a'most forget how the years ha' rolled “Between us!....0 Willie! how strange it seems To see ye here as I've seen ye oft, Auver and auver again in dreams!" In broken words like these, with soft Low wails she rock'd herself. And none Of the rough men around her scoff'd.

For surely a sight like this, the sun
Had rarely looked upon. Face to face,
The old dead love and the living one!
The dead, with its undimm'd fleshly grace,
At the end of threescore years; the quick,
Pucker'd and wither'd, without a trace
Of its warm girl-beauty! A wizard's trick
Bringing the youth and the love that were,
Back to the eyes of the old and sick!
Those bodies were just of one age; yet there
Death, clad in youth, had been standing still,
While Life had been fretting itself threadbare!
But the moment was come;-(as a moment will
To all who have loved, and have parted here,
And have toil'd alone up the thorny hill;
When, at the top, as their eyes see clear,
Over the mists in the vale below,
Mere specks their trials and toils appear,
Beside the eternal rest they know!)
Death came to old Bess that night, and gave
The welcome summons that she should go.
And now, though the rains and the winds may rave
Nothing can part them. Deep and wide
The miners that evening dug one grave.
And there, while the summers and winters glide,
Old Bess and young Willie sleep side by side !


"And with the dawn those angel faces smile

That I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
I shall not paint them. God sees them, and I:
No other can, nor need. They have no form,
I may not close with human kisses warm
Their eyes which shine afar or from on high,
But never will shine nearer till I die.
How long, how long! See, I am growing old;
I have quite ceased to note in my hair's fold
The silver threads that there in ambush lie;
Some angel faces bent from heaven would pine
To trace the sharp lines graven upon mine:
What matter? in the wrinkles plough'd by care

Let age tread after, sowing immortal seeds;
All this life's harvest yielded, wheat or weeds,
Is reap'd, methinks: at last my little field lies bare.

But in the night time, 'twixt it and the stars,
The angel faces still come glimmering by;
No death-pale shadow, no averted eye,
Marking the inevitable doom that bars
Me from them. Not a cloud their aspect mars;
And my sick spirit walks with them hand in hand
By the cool waters of a pleasant land:
Sings with them o'er again, without its jars,
The psalm of life, that ceased as one by one
Their voices, dropping off, left mine alone
With dull monotonous wail to grieve the air,-
O solitary love, that art so strong,
I think God will have pity on thee ere long,
And take thee where thou'lt find those angel faces fair,

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Stand up-erect! Thou hast the form

And likeness of thy God !-Who more?
A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm

And pure as breast e'er wore.
What then ?- Thou art as true a man

As moves the human mass among,
As much a part of the great plan
That with creation's dawn began

As any of the throng.
Who is thine enemy? The high

In station, or in wealth the chief?
The great, who coldly pass thee by,.
With proud step and averted eye?

Nay! nurse not such belief.
If true unto thyself thou wast,

What were the proud one's scorn to thee?
A feather which thou mightest cast
Aside, as idly as the blast

The light leaf from the tree.
No: uncurbed passions, low desires,

Absence of noble self-respect,
Death, in the breast's consuming fires,

To that high nature which aspires

Forever, till thus checked, -
These are thine enemies—thy worst;

They chain thee to thy lowly lot,
Thy labor and thy life accursed.
Oh, stand erect, and from them burst,

And longer suffer not.
Thou art thyself thine enemy:

The great !—what better they than thou ?
As theirs is not thy will as free?
Has God with equal favors thee

Neglected to endow?
True, wealth thou hast not—'tis but dust :

Nor place-uncertain as the wind;
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust
And water, may despise the lust

Of both-a noble mind.
With this, and passions under ban,

True faith, and holy trust in God,
Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up, then, that thy little span

Of life may be well trod.


ANONYMOUS. A little one played among the flowers, In the blush and bloom of summer hours; She twined the buds in a garland fair, And bound them up in her shining hair. “Ah me!" said she, “how happy I'll be When ten years more have gone over me And I am a maiden, with youth's bright glow Flushing my cheek and lighting my brow!" A maiden mused in a pleasant room, Where the air was filled with soft perfume; Vases were near, of antique mold, Beautiful pictures, rare and old, And she, of all the loveliness there, Was by far the loveliest and most fair. Ah me!" sighed she, “how happy I'll be When my heart's true love comes home to me! Light of my life, my spirit's pride, I count the days till thou reach my side.”

A mother bent over a cradle nest,
Where she soothed her babe to his smiling rest.
“Sleep well,” she murmured soft and low,
And she pressed her kisses on his brow;

Oh, child, sweet child! how happy I'll be
If the good God let thee stay with me
Till later on, in life's evening hour,
Thy strength shall be my strength and tower."
An aged one sat by the glowing hearth,
Almost ready to leave the earth;
Feeble and frail, the race she had run
Had borne her along to the setting sun.
“Ah me!” she sighed, in an undertone,

How happy I'll be when life is done!
When the world fades out with its weary strife,
And I soar away to a better life!”
'Tis thus we journey from youth to age,
Longing to turn to another page,
Striving to hasten the years away,
Lighting our hearts with the future's ray;
Hoping on earth till its visions fade,
Wishing and waiting, through sun and shade;
Turning, when earth's last tie is riven,
To the beautiful rest that remains in heaven.


Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove;
Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet with falling dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine
Far down in the green and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,
And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;
From coral rocks the sea-plants lift
Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow :
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and the waves are absent there,
And the sands are bright as the stars that giow
In the motionless fields of

There with its waving blade of green,
The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen
To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter :
There with a light and easy motion


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