Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing and weep, soared up into the ring;
But most would use no wing.

O fools-said I—thus to prefer dark night
Before true light!

To live in grots and caves, and hate the day
Because it shows the way;

The way, which from this dead and dark abode
Leads up to God;

A way where you might tread the sun, and be
More bright then he!

But as I did their madness so discuss,

One whispered thus,

"This ring the Bride-groom did for none provide,

But for His Bride."

Henry Vaughan [1622-1695]

THE WHITE ISLAND

In this world, the Isle of Dreams,
While we sit by sorrow's streams,
Tears and terror are our themes
Reciting:

But when once from hence we fly,
More and more approaching nigh
Unto young Eternity

Uniting:

In that whiter island, where
Things are evermore sincere;
Candor here, and luster there
Delighting:

There no monstrous fancies shall

Out of Hell an horror call,

To create (or cause at all)
Affrighting.

THIS world is all a fleeting show,

For man's illusion given;

The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,—

There's nothing true but Heaven!

And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues of even;

And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb,--
There's nothing bright but Heaven!

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we're driven,

And fancy's flash and reason's ray
Serve but to light the troubled way,-

There's nothing calm but Heaven!
Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

THE LAND O' THE LEAL

I'm wearin' awa', John,

Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,

I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, John,
There's neither cauld nor care, John,
The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, John,
She was baith gude and fair, John;
And O! we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal.

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
And joy's a-comin' fast, John,

The joy that's aye to last

In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear's that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought

To the land o' the leal.

O, dry your glistening e'e, John!
My saul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

O, haud ye leal and true, John!
Your day it's wearin' through, John,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.

Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,

This warld's cares are vain, John,

We'll meet, and we'll be fain,

In the land o' the leal.

"Rest is Not Here"

3455

Life's dark flood forded o'er,
All but at rest on shore,

Say, would you plunge once more,
With home so nigh?

If you might, would you now
Retrace your way?

Wander through thorny wilds,

Faint and astray?

Night's gloomy watches fled,
Morning all beaming red,

Hope's smiles around us shed,
Heavenward-away.

Where are they gone, of yore
My best delight?

Dear and more dear, though now
Hidden from sight.

Where they rejoice to be,

There is the land for me;

Fly time-fly speedily,

Come life and light.

Carolina Nairne [1766-1845]

"REST IS NOT HERE"

WHAT'S this vain world to me?

Rest is not here;

False are the smiles I see,
The mirth I hear.

Where is youth's joyful glee?

Where all once dear to me?

Gone as the shadows flee-
Rest is not here.

Why did the morning shine
Blithely and fair?

Why did those tints so fine

Vanish in air?