WORK.

WHAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil-
Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines,
For all the heat o' the day, till it declines,
And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil.
God did anoint thee with his odorous oil,
To wrestle, not to reign; and He assigns
All thy tears over, like pure crystallines,
For younger fellow-workers of the soil
To wear for amulets. So others shall

Take patience, labor, to their heart and hands,
From thy hands, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer,

And God's grace fructify through thee to all.
The least flower, with a brimming cup, may stand,
And share its dew-drop with another near.

THE BOON OF MEMORY.

"Many things answered me."-Manfred.

I Go, I go!—and must mine image fade
From the green spots wherein my childhood played,
By my own streams?

Must my life part from each familiar place,
As a bird's song, that leaves the woods no trace
Of its lone themes?

Will the friend pass my dwelling, and forget
The welcomes there, the hours when we have met
In grief or glee?

All the sweet counsel, the communion high,
The kindly words of trust, in days gone by,
Poured full and free?

A boon, a talisman, O Memory! give,
To shrine my name in hearts where I would live
For evermore?

Bid the wind speak of me where I have dwelt,
Bid the stream's voice, of all my soul hath felt,
A thought restore!

In the rich rose, whose bloom I loved so well,
In the dim brooding violet of the dell,
Set deep that thought!

And let the sunset's melancholy glow,
And let the Spring's first whisper, faint and low,
With me be fraught!

And Memory answered me :-" Wild wish and vain! I have no hues the loveliest to detain

In the heart's core.

The place they held in bosoms all their own,
Soon with new shadows filled, new flowers o'ergrown,
Is theirs no more."

Hast thou such power, O Love?—And Love replied,
"It is not mine! Pour out thy soul's full tide
Of hope and trust,

Prayer, tear, devotedness, that boon to gain—
'Tis but to write with the heart's fiery rain,
Wild words on dust!"

Song, is the gift with thee?—I ask a lay,
Soft, fervent, deep, that will not pass away
From the still breast;

Filled with a tone-oh! not for deathless fame,
But a sweet haunting murmur of my name,
Where it would rest.

And Song made answer-"It is not in me,
Though called immortal; though my gifts may be
All but divine.

A place of lonely brightness I can give:

A changeless one, where thou with Love wouldst live— This is not mine!"

Death, Death! wilt thou the restless wish fulfill?
And Death the Strong One, spoke :-"I can but still
Each vain regret.

What if forgotten?-All thy soul would crave,
Thou too, within the mantle of the grave,

Wilt soon forget."

Then did my heart in lone faint sadness die,
As from all nature's voices one reply,

But one-was given.

"Earth has no heart, fond dreamer! with a tone
To send thee back the spirit of thine own-
Seek it in Heaven."

SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.

OLD Time has turned another page
Of eternity and truth;

He reads with a warning voice to age,
And whispers a lesson to youth.
A year has fled o'er heart and head
Since last the yule log burnt;

And we have a task to closely ask,

What the bosom and brain have learnt?

Oh! let us hope that our sands have run
With wisdom's precious grains;

Oh! may we find that our hands have done
Some work of glorious pains.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year,
While the holly gleams above us;

With a pardon for the foes who hate,

And a prayer for those who love us.

We may have seen some loved ones pass
To the land of hallowed rest;

We may miss the glow of an honest brow
And the warmth of a friendly breast:
But if we nursed them while on earth,
With hearts all true and kind,

Will their spirits blame the sinless mirth
Of those true hearts left behind?

No, no! it were not well or wise

To mourn with endless pain;
'There's a better world beyond the skies,
Where the good shall meet again.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year,
While the holly gleams above us;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,

And a prayer for those who love us.

Have our days rolled on serenely free
From sorrow's dim alloy?

Do we still possess the gifts that bless
And fill our souls with joy?

Are the creatures dear still clinging near?
Do we hear loved voices come?

Do we gaze on eyes whose glances shed
A halo round our home?

Oh, if we do, let thanks be poured

To Him who hath spared and given,

And forget not o'er the festive board

The mercies held from heaven.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year, While the holly gleams above us;

With a pardon for the foes who hate,

And a prayer for those who love us.