Thou fill'st with joy this little one, That leaps and shouts beside me here, Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run Through the dark woods like frighted deer. Ah! must thy mighty breath, that wakes Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground The things, O Life! thou quickenest-all Upward and outward, and they fall All that have borne the touch of death, There lies my chamber dark and still, Well, I have had my turn, have been The brightness of the skirts of God; And know the light within my breast, And cannot die, were all from Him. Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve Thy little heart will soon be heal'd, When we descend to dust again, -American. W. C. BRYANT, 1798 THE FIELD OF THE WORLD. Sow in the morn thy seed, At eve hold not thine hand; To doubt and fear give thou no heed, Broadcast it o'er the land. Beside all waters sow, The highway furrows stock, Drop it where thorns and thistles grow, Scatter it on the rock. The good, the fruitful ground, O'er hill and dale, by plots 'tis found; Thou knowest not which may thrive, Grace keeps the precious germs alive, When and wherever strown. And duly shall appear In verdure, beauty, strength; And the full corn at length. Thou canst not toil in vain ; Cold, heat, and moist, and dry, Shall foster and mature the grain For garners in the sky. Thence, when the glorious end, And Heaven cry—“ Harvest Home." WATCH! TRUST not, man! earth's flowers-but keep Busy watch-they fade, they bow Watch, I say, for thou mayst weep O'er the things thou smil'st on now. Man! thou art a foolish child, But the earth-worm swallows all. Careless dreaming-thoughtless vow Waste existence ?-Thou wilt weep O'er the days thou smil'st on now. Earth-that passes like a shade, Vain as lightest shade can be ; O'er its fairest, greenest bough: Watch, I say; the dying worm Lest in misery thou shouldst weep 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. |