| TWILIGHT |
The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman's cottage There shines a sudden light; And a little face at the window Peers out into the night. Close, close it is pressed to the window, As if those childish eyes Were looking into the darkness To see some form arise. And a woman's waving shadow Is passing to and fro, Now rising to the ceiling, Now bowing and bending low. What tale do the roaring ocean, And the night wind, bleak and wild, As they beat at the crazy casement, Tell to that little child? And why do the roaring ocean, And the night wind, wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the color from her cheek? |
| --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. |
By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
| THE PEBBLE AND THE ACORN |
"I am a Pebble and yield to none!" Were the swelling words of a tiny stone; "Nor change nor season can alter me: I am abiding while ages flee. The pelting hail and the drizzling rain Have tried to soften me long in vain; And the tender dew has sought to melt Or to touch my heart,--but it was not felt. "None can tell of the Pebble's birth; For I am as old as the solid earth. The children of men arise and pass Out of the world like blades of grass; And many a foot on me has trod That's gone from sight and under the sod! I am a Pebble! but who art thou, Rattling along from the restless bough?" The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute, And lay for a moment abashed and mute; And she felt for a while perplexed to know How to answer a thing so low. But to give reproof of nobler sort Than the angry look or the keen retort, At length she said, in a gentle tone, "Since it has happened that I am thrown "From the lighter element, where I grew, Down to another so hard and new, [{439}] And beside a personage so august, Abashed I will cover my head with dust, And quickly retire from the sight of one Whom time nor season, nor storm nor sun, Nor the gentler dew, nor the grinding wheel, Has ever subdued or made to feel." And soon in the earth she sunk away From the comfortless spot where the Pebble lay; But it was not long ere the soil was broke By the peering head of an ancient oak; And as it arose, and its branches spread, The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,-- "A modest acorn never to tell What was enclosed in her simple shell-- "That the pride of the forest was thus shut up Within the space of her little cup! And meekly to sink in the darksome earth To prove that nothing could hide her worth. And, O, how many will tread on me To come and admire that beautiful tree, Whose head is towering toward the sky, Above such a worthless thing as I! "Useless and vain, a cumberer here, I have been idling from year to year; But never from this shall a vaunting word From the humble Pebble again be heard, Till something without me, or within, Can show the purpose for which I've been!" The Pebble could not its vow forget And it lies there wrapped in silence yet. |
| --Gould. |
| A PSALM OF LIFE |
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,--act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! [{441}] Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;-- Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. |
| --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. |
By permission of Houghton. Mifflin & Co.
| WHILE THEE I SEEK, PROTECTING POWER |
While Thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled. Thy love the power of thought bestowed, To Thee my thoughts would soar, Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed, That mercy I adore. In each event of life, how clear Thy ruling hand I see; Each blessing to my soul more dear, Because conferred by Thee. In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer. When gladness wings my favored hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet Thy will. My lifted eye, without a tear, The lowering storm shall see; My steadfast heart shall know no fear, That heart will rest on Thee. |
| --Helen Maria Williams. |