While gaping thousands come and go-
How vain it seems, this empty show!
Till all at once his pulses thrill:
'Tis poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill!"

And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The names that pleased our mortal ears,
In some sweet lull of harp and song,
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whispering of the world below,
Where this was Bill, and that was Joe?

No matter; while our home is here
No sounding name is half so dear;
When fades at length our lingering day,
Who cares what pompous tombstones say?
Read on the hearts that love us still,
Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.

R

RING QUT, WILD BELLS!

An Invocation to the New Year.

ING out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

The flying cloud, the frosty light;

The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;

Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;

Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

OLD.

OY the wayside, on a mossy stone,

BY

Sat a hoary pilgrim sadly musing;

Oft I marked him sitting there alone,
All the landscape like a page perusing;
Poor, unknown—

By the wayside, on a mossy stone.

Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat,
Coat as ancient as the form 't was folding,
Silver buttons, queue, and crimped cravat,
Oaken staff, his feeble hand upholding,
There he sat!

Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat.

It was summer, and we went to school,

Dapper country lads and little maidens,
Taught the motto of the "Dunce's Stool".
Its grave import still my fancy ladens
"Here's a fool!"

It was summer, and we went to school.

When the stranger seemed to mark our play-
Some of us were joyous, some sad-hearted
I remember well, too well, that day!

Oftentimes the tears unbidden started,
Would not stay,

When the stranger seemed to mark our play.

One sweet spirit broke the silent spell;
Ah! to me her name was always heaven!
She besought him all his grief to tell:
(I was then thirteen, and she eleven,)
Isabel!

One sweet spirit broke the silent spell.

"Angel," said he sadly, "I am old;

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow; Yet, why I sit here thou shalt be told; Then his eye betrayed a pearl of sorrow: Down it rolled!

"Angel," said he sadly, "I am old.

"I have tottered here to look once more
On the pleasant scene where I delighted,
In the careless, happy days of yore,
Ere the garden of my heart was blighted
To the core !

I have tottered here to look once more.

"All the picture now to me how dear!

E'en this gray old rock, where I am seated,

Is a jewel worth my journey here;

Ah! that such a scene must be completed
With a tear!

All the picture now to me how dear!

"Old stone school-house! - it is still the same!
There's the very step I so oft mounted;
There's the window creaking in its frame,
And the notches that I cut and counted
For the game;

Old stone school-house! - it is still the same!

"In the cottage, yonder, I was born;

Long my happy home—that humble dwelling: There are the fields of clover, wheat, and corn, There the spring, with limpid nectar swelling; Ah, forlorn!

In the cottage, yonder, I was born.

"There's the orchard where we used to climb,
When my mates and I were boys together,
Thinking nothing of the flight of time,

Fearing nought but work and rainy weather;
Past its prime!

There's the or hard where we used to climb!

"There's the mill that ground our yellow grain, Pond, and river still serenely flowing;

Cot, there nestling in the shaded lane,
Where the lily of my heart was blowing,
Mary Jane!

There's the mill that ground our yellow grain!

"There's the gate on which I used to swing,

Brook, and bridge, and barn, and old red stable;

But, alas! no more the morn shall bring

That dear group around my father's table;
Taken wing!

There's the gate on which I used to swing.

"I am fleeing!—all I loved are fled!

Yon green meadow was our place for playing: That old tree can tell of sweet things said,

When around it Jane and I were straying:
She is dead!

I am fleeing!—all I loved are fled!

"Yon white spire, a pencil on the sky,
Tracing silently life's changeful story,
So familiar to my dim old eye,

Points me to seven that are now in glory,
There on high!

Yon white spire, a pencil on the sky!

"Oft the aisle of that old church we trod,
Guided thither by an angel mother;
Now she sleeps beneath its sacred sod,
Sire and sisters, and my little brother;
Gone to God!

Oft the aisle of that old church we trod!

"There I heard of wisdom's pleasant ways-
Bless the holy lesson! but, ah! never
Shall I hear again those songs of praise,
Those sweet voices - silent now forever!
Peaceful days!

There I heard of wisdom's pleasant ways!

"There my Mary blessed me with her hand,
When our souls drank in the nuptial blessing,
Ere she hastened to the spirit-land;

Yonder turf her gentle bosom pressing;
Broken band!

There my Mary blessed me with her hand!

"I have come to see that grave once more,
And the sacred place where we delighted,
Where we worshipped in the days of yore,
Ere the garden of my heart was blighted
To the core!

I have come to see that grave once more.

“Angel,” said he sadly, "I am old!

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow;
Now, why I sit here thou hast been told:"
In his eye another pearl of sorrow,
Down it rolled!

"Angel," said he sadly, "I am old!”