wmmmmmm COMPLETE BOOK M f M fWiw unmuwwwnn i iMii ? KINNER UC-NRLF % B 3 mt. 3fil SILVER Be!e£lT&C I i I GIFT or H.D .LINquI^T J ■ I Ml I II !■ ■' •' Uii SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING COMPLETE Books One, Two and Three Required for the First Eight Years of Elementary Schools BV the Education Department of New York State Compiled and Edited by AVERY WARNER SKINNER Inspector of Schools, Education Department of New York State SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY Boston New York Chicago Copyright, 1911., By Silver, Burdett and Compant Gift ,^T PUBLISHERS' NOTE The poems in "Selections for Memorizing" are those authorized by the Education Department of the State of New York in its syllabus for elementary schools. The reyision of this syllabus, published in 1910, neces- sitated the reyision of the original edition of "Selec- tions for ^Memorizing" to include the new material. In addition to the selections for memorizing, the new edition now includes the poems designated for apprecia- tiye reading in English in seyenth and eighth years, and the shorter history poems suggested for collateral read- ing in the fifth to eighth years. In order that this material may be ayailable in the most conyenient and economical form for pupils' use, it is published in a three book series, as follows: Book One. Selections for Memorizing, First, Second, Third and Fourth Years. Book Two. Selections for Memorizing and History Selec- tions for Collateral Reading, Fifth and Sixth Years. Book Three. Selections for Memorizing, Poems for Ap- preciative Reading and History Poems for Collateral Reading, Seventh and Eighth Years. In connection with the poems for appreciative reading in Book Three there are also sufficient notes to guide the pupil to a careful study of these poems in preparing for the elementary English examinations of the eighth year. For the assistance of the teacher, topics for composition, based on these selections, have also been given. 575811 4 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING In addition to the regular edition the entire contents of the three books are also published in a single volume, for the convenience of those teachers who wish all the material. The poems prescribed by the Education Department have been chosen after a careful and exhaustive ex- amination of the best courses of study in the schools of this and other states. It is believed that this grouping of these poems in a single series is exceedingly desirable as it offers to teacher and pupil, in permanent and accessible form, the material for the required work in English and also the shorter selections suggested for reading in connection with the study of history in the grades. The right to use the copyrighted material contained in this volume has been obtained through purchase or through the courtesy of authors or publishers. The selections from the writings of Bayard Taylor, Frank Dempster Sherman, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Bjornstjerne Bjornson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Lucy Larcom, Alice Gary, John Greenleaf Whittier, James Russell Lowell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Margaret Vandergrift are used by per- mission of, and special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin Company. The copyrighted selections from the^ writings of Eugene Field, Robert Louis Stevenson, Henry van Dyke, and Henry Cuyler Bunner are used through the courtesy of, and by special arrangement w^ith, the publishers of the works of these authors, Charles Scribner's Sons. We are permitted also, by the kindness of the pub- lishing houses mentioned below, to use the following selections : ' ' The Wonderful World, " by William Brighty Rands (John Lane Companv); "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem," by Phillips Brooks (E. P. Dutton & Com- publishers' note pany); "The Blue Jay" and "July," by Susan Hartley Swett (Dana, Estes & Company); "Sheridan's Ride," by T. Buchanan Read (J. B. Lippincott Company); "Scythe Song," by Andrew Lang (Longmans, Green & Company); "Columbus," by Joaquin Miller (The Whitaker & Ray Company); Selections from "My Study Fire," by Hamilton Wright Mabie (Dodd, ]Mead & Company); "October's Bright Blue Weather" and "September," by Helen Hunt Jackson (Little, Brown, & Company); "Old Glory," by James Whitcomb Riley (The Bobbs-Merrill Company); "Bobolink," by Chnton Scollard; the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," by Julia Ward Howe (Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company) ; "Robert of Lincoln," bv William Cullen Brvant (D. Appleton & Company); "O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Wliitman (David ^McKay). We are also under deep obligations to Mr. Henry Holcomb Bennett for permission to use "The Flag Goes By;" to Mrs. Emily Huntington Miller for "The Bluebird;" to Mrs. Lionel S. ^Nlarks (Josephine Preston Peabody) for "Making a House" and "The Journey;" to Mr. Chnton Scollard for " Fraidie-Cat " and "Jim Crow;" to Mr. Edwin Markham for " Lincoln, The Man of the People," which was originally entitled, "Lincoln, the Great Commoner;" and to Mr. Thomas Bailey Aldrich for " ]Marjorie's Almanac," published by Houghton JNIifflin Company. For valuable assistance in the preparation of the notes that accompany the Poems for Appreciative Reading in Book Three, thanks are hereby rendered to Mrs. Emogene Sanford Simons, of Albany, N. Y. TO THE TEACHER In teaching children how to read and what to read, it seems necessary to say that there must be an appreciation of good hterature on the part of the teacher. This does not mean that she must of necessity be a hterary critic, or even very widely read, but it is of the greatest im- portance that she be well grounded in the few great books of all generations, capable of a wise discrimination between the good and the bad in literature and able to bring to her class a love of good books and a heart touched and inspired by a comradeship with the great minds of the ages. Ruskin well says: "Will you go and gossip with your housemaid or with vour stable-bov, when vou mav talk with kings and queens? Will you jostle with the common crowd for entree here or audience 'there, when all the while this eternal court is open to you with its society wide as the world, — the chosen and the mighty of every place and time?" There is such a multitude of books to-dav, such a mass of ephemeral literature in magazines and books of fiction that it is scarcely surprising that our taste for good reading is vitiated and our mental energies more or less dissipated. How many of us are as familiar as we should be with the mighty epic of Isaiah, with the lyrics of David, with his songs of rejoicing or of penitence? Are we well acquainted with the masterpieces of Shake- speare — that great analyst of the human soul — with their records of passion and tenderness, true for all ages and conditions of man? It cannot be too earnestly 6 TO THE TEACHER 7 urged that if we would influence rightly the reading of the children under our guidance, we must be careful in the choice of our own reading. The habit of committing to memory some of the fine gold of literature is most helpful and stimulating. Facts and figures may pass away, but the splendid imagery of the poet, the great thoughts of great men, will do much toward the molding of character and the form- ation of taste. It is believed that this grouping together of choice literary material will greatly facilitate the eftorts of teachers to instill in the minds of the young an appre- ciation of good literature. In the use of these selections for memorizing, permit me to emphasize the fact that the study of a poem should always precede the study of the author's life. For convenient reference, sketches of the authors from whose writings selections are quoted are appended to each volume. The facts given therein, however, are to be learned, if at all, only after the children are familiar with the poems from the authors to whom they relate. The essence of literature, it has been finely said, is beauty; to study it mechanically is like grasping a but- terfly. The teaching of these poems should be not merely a training of memory but also a process of de- veloping the imagination, giving the child a quick and keen perception of the beauty in literature. In the attainment of this double end it becomes necessary, therefore, for the teacher to have interest and enthusiasm in 'a poem before attempting to present it to the class. The teacher should make a careful study of the poem, stanza by stanza, and seek to grasp the full meaning of each sentence. She should try to see the pictures presented and to understand the feelings and emotions 8 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING of the author when he wrote, for the ideas which the author has expressed appeal to similar experiences in the child's life. When this has been done thoroughly, the teacher will have entered into the spirit of the poem and should be able to arouse a like enthusiasm in the class. Of course, in the poems set for memorization she must commit each selection to memory and drill herself upon the oral rendering of it before it is given to the children. After this somewhat extensive but necessary preparation, the poem in its entirety should be read or recited to the class. In this way the children will be able to gain a general idea of its purpose and theme. Then as they proceed to commit it to memory, select the key word or words of each stanza and let these suggest the thought of the stanza. By thus group- ing sentences around some central idea, you will find that the children will memorize and retain readily. There are, in many poems, some few lines that reveal the heart of the poem — inspired thoughts that appeal to the best there is in us. Such gems of thought should be so frequently repeated, both individually and in con- cert, that the child will never forget them but will make them a permanent part of his richest mental treasure. It is not necessary to memorize the history poems, but they should be read by the children while they are studying the lives of the men to whom the poems refer or the periods which the poems illustrate. Good literature, especially poetry, paints vivid pic- tures of the life of a nation, and should constantly be used to illuminate the pages of history. Through this correlation of literature and history greater interest in both subjects is aroused. f Avery Warner Skinner. CONTENTS FIRST YEAR Cecil Frances Alexander ... 11 Eugene Field 12 All Things Bright and Beautiful . . . . . Rock-a-By Lady Making a House .... Who Has Seen the Wind? Lady Moon What Does the Bee Do? The Wind Robert Louis Stevenson . . . Where Go the Boats . . Robert Louis Stevenson . . . Foreign Children .... Robert Louis Stevenson . . . Rhymes Mother Goose 17 1 Saw a Ship PAGE Josephine Preston Peabody Christina G. Rossetti . . . Christina G. Rossetti . . . Christina G. Rossetti . . . 13 13 14 14 14 15 16 19 20 Memory Gems 21 SECOND YEAR "One, Two, Three" . . . A Dutch Lullaby . . . . Lady Moon Seven Times One ... The Brown Thrush . . . The Owl and the Pussy-Cat The Journey The Wonderful World . How Many Seconds in a Minute? America My Shadow ....... The Swing Memory Gems Henry Cuyler Bunner .... 22 Eugene Field 23 Lord Houghton 25 Jean Ingelow 25 Lucy Larcom 26 Edward Lear . 27 Josephine Preston Peabody . 28 William Brighty Rands ... 29 Christina G. Rossetti . Samuel Francis Smith . Robert Louis Stevenson Robert Louis Stevenson 30 31 32 33 34 9 10 CONTENTS THIRD YEAR PAGE 35 36 38 39 39 40 Marjorie's Almanac , . . Thomas Bailey Aldrich . . O Little Town of Bethlehem Phillips Brooks November Alice Gary He Prayeth Best .... Samuel Taylor Coleridge A Child's Prayer .... Matilda Betham-Edwards . A Boy's Song James Hogg Calling the Violet . . . Lucy Larcom 41 A Visit from St. Nicholas Clement Clarke Moore ... 43 Bobolink Clinton Scollard 44 Fraidie-Cat Clinton Scollard 46 The Sandman Margaret Vandergrift .... 46 Columbia the Gem of the Ocean 48 Memory Gems 49 FOURTH YEAR Fairy Folk The Night Wind .... Jack Frost September The Village Blacksmith The Children's Hour . . The Wind and the Moon The Bluebird Jim Crow ' . Sweet and Low The Barefoot Boy . . . Lucy Gray Memory Gems William Allingham 50 Eugene Field 52 Hannah Flagg Gould .... 53 Helen Hunt Jackson .... 54 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 55 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 57 George MacDonald 58 Emily Huntington Miller . . 61 Clinton Scollard 61 Alfred, Lord Tennyson ... 63 John Greenleaf Whittier . : . 63 William Wordsworth .... 67 70 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES . , 73 INDEX (BY TITLES) 83 INDEX (BY AUTHORS) 85 BOOK ONE FIRST YEAR ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, — The Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, Each little bird that sings, — He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings. The rich man in his castle. The poor man at his gate, God made them, high or lowly, And order'd their estate. The purple-headed mountain, The river running, by. The morning, and the sunset That lighteth up the sky. The cold wind in the winter. The pleasant summer sun. The ripe fruits in the garden, — = He made them every one. 11 /I3; SELFtJTlONS^ FOR MEMORIZING The tall trees in the greenwood, The meadows where we play. The rushes by the water We gather every day; — He gave us eyes to see them, And lips that we might tell How great is God Almighty, Who hath made all things well. Cecil Frances Alexander. ROCK-A-BY LADY The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street Comes stealing; comes creeping; The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet — She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet. When she findeth you sleeping! There is one little dream of a beautiful drum — "Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum. And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum, And a trumpet that bloweth ! And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams With laughter ^nd singing; And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams, And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, The fairies go winging! FIRST YEAR 13 Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? They'll come to you sleeping; So shut the two eves that are wearv, mv sweet. For the Rock-a-Bv Ladv from Hushabv street, With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, Comes stealing; comes creeping. Eugene Field. From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: published by Charles Scribner's Sons. MAKING A HOUSE First of all, I draw the Smoke Trailing up the sky; Then the Chimney, underneath; And Birds all flying by; Then the House; and every Window, Watching, like an Eye. Everybody else begins with the House. But I Love the Smoke the best of all; And vou don't know whv ! . . . Here it goes, — like little feathers Sailing up the sky! Josephine Preston Peabody, From "The Book of the Little Past," by permission of the author. WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor vou: But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing through. 14 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Wlio has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by. Christina G. Rossetti. LADY MOON O Lady Moon, your horns point toward the east: Shine, be increased; Lady Moon, your horns point toward the west: Wane, be at rest. Christina G. Rossetti. WHAT DOES THE BEE DO? What does the bee do? Bring home honey. What does father do? Bring home money. And what does mother do? Lay out the money. And what does baby do? Eat up the honey. Christina G. Rossetti. THE WIND I SAW you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass. Like ladies' skirts across the grass - O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! FIRST YEAR 15 I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all — O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! O you that are so strong and cold ; O blower, are you young or old? Are you a beast of field and tree. Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! Robert Louis Stevenson. From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons. WHERE GO THE BOATS Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along forever With trees on either hand. Green leaves a-floating. Castles of the foam. Boats of mine a-boating — Where will all come home? On goes the river And out past the mill. Away down the valley. Away down the hill. 16 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other Httle children Shall bring my boats ashore. Robert Louis Stevenson. From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles Seribner's Sons. FOREIGN CHILDREN Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, O! don't you wish that you were me? You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions over seas; You have eaten ostrich eggs. And turned the turtles off their legs. Such a life is very fine. But it's not so nice as mine: You must often, as you trod. Have wearied not to be abroad. You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must dwell beyond the foam, But I am safe and live at home. Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, O! don't you wish that you were me. Robert Louis Stevenson. From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles Seribner's Sons. FIRST YEAR 17 LITTLE BO-PEEP Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them. Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep. And dreamt she heard them bleating; But when she awoke she found it a joke, For still they all were fleeting. Then up she took her little crook. Determined for to find them; She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed. For they'd left their tails behind them. It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray, Into a meadow hard by — There she espied their tails side by side. All hung on a tree to dry. She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye. And over the hillocks she raced; And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should. That each tail should be properly placed. Mother Goose. THIS LITTLE PIG This little pig went to market; This little pig stayed at home; This little pig had roast beef; This little pig had none; This Httle pig said, "Wee, Wee! I can't find my way home." Mother Goose. 18 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING ROCK-A-BYE RocK-A-BYE, baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; And Betty's a lad}^ and wears a gold ring; And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king. Mother Goose. HUSH-A-BYE HusH-A-BYE, baby, on the tree-top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all. Mother Goose. SING A SONG Sing a song of six-pence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie; When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish To set before the king? The king w^as in his counting house, Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlor. Eating bread and honey; FIRST YEAR 19 The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes; When up came a blackbird And snapt off her nose. Mother Goose. HUIVIPTY DUMPTY HimiPTY DuMPTY sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; Not all the king's horses, Nor all the king's men, Could set Humpty Dumpty up again. Mother Goose. LITTLE BOY BLUE Little boy blue, come blow^ your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn; Where's the boy that looks after the sheep? He's under the haycock, fast asleep. Will you awake him? No, not I; For if I do, he'll be sure to crv. Mother Goose. MARY, MARY Mary, IMary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? With cockle-shells and silver bells And pretty maids all of a-row. Mother Goose, 20 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING I SAW A SHIP I SAW a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And, ohl it was all laden With pretty things for thee! There were comfits in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of goldo The four-and-twentv sailors That stood between the decks Were four-and-twenty white mice, With chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move. The captain said, " Quack ! quack ! '' MEMORY GEMS A GOOD name is rather to be chosen than riches. Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers. Kind deeds are the fruits. Little children, you must seek Rather to be good than wase; For the thoughts you do not speak Shine out in your cheeks and eyes. If at first you don't succeed Try, try, again. Twinkle, twinkle, little star! How I wonder what you are, Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky. Politeness is to do or say The kindest thing in the kindest way. April showers bring May flowers. Thirty daj^s hath September, April, June and November, All the rest have thirty-one, Excepting February alone, Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine, Till leap year gives it twenty-nine. 21 SECOND YEAR (( ONE, TWO, THREE" It was an old, old, old, old lady. And a boy that was half-past three; And the way that they played together Was beautiful to see. She couldn't go running and jumping, And the boy, no more could he; For he was a thin little fellow. With a thin little twisted knee. They sat in the yellow sunlight, Out under the maple tree; And the game that they played I'll tell you. Just as it was told to me. It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were playing, Though you'd never have known it to be — With an old, old, old, old lady, And a bov with a twisted knee. The bov would bend his face down On his one little sound right knee, And he'd guess where she was hiding. In guesses One, Two, Three! "You are in the china closet!" He would cry, and laugh with glee — It wasn't the china closet ; But still he had Two and Three. 22 SECOND YEAR 23 "You are up in Papa's big bedroom, In the chest with the queer old key!" And she said: "You are warm and warmer, But you're not quite right," said she. "It can't be the Httle cupboard Where Mamma's things used to be, So it must be the clothespress, Gran'ma!" And he found her with his Three. Then she covered her face with her fingers, That were wrinkled and white and wee, And she guessed where the boy was hiding, With a One and a Two and a Three. And they had never stirred from their places, Right under the maple tree — This old, old, old, old lady. And the bov with the lame little knee — This dear, dear, dear old lady. And the boy who was half-past three. Henry Cuyler Bunner. From " Poems of H. C. Bunner;" copyright, 1884, 1892, 1896, 1899, by Charles Scribner's Sons. A DUTCH LULLABY Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe. Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we," Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod. 24 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fish That Uved in that beautiful sea, — ''Now cast your nets whenever you wish, Never afeard are we!" So cried the stars to the fishermen three — Wynken, Blynken and Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam. Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home. 'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea. But I shall name you the fishermen three — Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes And Nod is a little head. And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock on the misty sea, — Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three — Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Eugene Field. From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: published by Charles Scribner's Sons. SECOND YEAR 25 LADY MOON Lady INIoon, Lady INIoon, where are you roving? "Over the sea." Lady jNIoon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? "All that love me." Are you not tired with rolling, and never Resting to sleep? Why look so pale and so sad, as forever Wishing to weep? "Ask me not this, little child, if you love me: You are too bold. I must obev mv dear Father above me. And do as I'm told." Lady Moon, Lady INIoon, where are you roving? "Over the sea." Lady INIoon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? "All that love me." Lord Houghton, SE^^N TLNIES ONE There 's no dew left on the daisies and clover. There's no rain left in heaven; I've said my "seven times" over and over, Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old I can write a letter; Mv birthdav lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better — They are only one times one. 36 SELECTKSS& WfM lA-JZiftKXi moQn! in the ni^t I hsKvc seen voo snEn^ And jJiiniii^ so Found and low; Yon were hi^kt^ ah hd^bttl hat yvnr figlit k £ufin^. — Yoo are nodiiii^ now hot a how. Ton moon. haT^ toq done somedun^ ^<^Tong: in heaT^en, That God has hidden ya/ar i^ce? 1 h<^)e« if yoa hame. inoa wiD scmmh be iot^vmi. And shine again in }noiir place. O Yiehret bee, Txmre a dnstv fellow: Yoa've powdoed jtoot le^ with fjold! hiaTe mai^unarr hods^ iich and yellow, Gire me v — - to hold! « And dww me your nesc widi the yoong ones in h.. — I win not steal it away; 1 am old! yon may trust me, finnet, finnct^ — I am seren times <»e to-dav! 7 7 . :^lrt^ THRUSH . riT.'.j - .. _ . _ :^ . : jwn thrash atttii^ wp m the tree, >|j--. -: . , - r to me! He's singgng to A hesay^fittle^jiifittlehQnr? *" 'v. _ '. /s nmnifi^ oiner with joy! : yon hewr? Ddn\ inon see? Look! Inmy tr*^ ^"^ as happy can be. nn « . ^ -, Aj ' "^rh keeps smigii^ ^ A nest do yoH aecv A^.- - ' Tae in the j u u i p cr-tree!' Lkic "^ ' "~hi! fittie fsnln fittie boy, Ort_ jieof itsjoy! SECONT) YEAR 27 Now I'm glad! now I'm free! And I ahvavs shall be. If you never bring sorrow to me." So the merry bro\\'n thrush sings away in the tree, To vou and to me, to vou and to me; And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, "Oh, the world's running over with joy! But long it won't be, . Don't vou know? don't vou see? Unless we are as good as can be!" Lucy Larcom. THE 0\\X AND THE PUSSY-CAT The Owl and the Pussv-Cat went to sea In a beautiful [>ea-green boat. They took some honey, and plenty of money \\ rap{x?fi up in a fi\e-pound note. The Owl l(x)ked With a ring in the end of his nose, — His nose; With a ring in the end of his nose. 28 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING i( Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the piggy, *'I will," So they took It away, and were married next day By the turkey who lives on the hill. They dined upon mince and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon. And hand In hand on the edge of the sand. They danced by the light of the moon, — The moon; They danced by the light of the moon. * Edward Lear. THE JOURNEY I NEVER saw the hills so far And blue, the way the pictures are; And flowers, flowers growing thick, But not a one for me to pick! The land was running from the train. All blurry through the window-pane. But then it all looked flat and still. When up there jumped a little hill! I saw the windows and the spires, And sparrows sitting on the wires; And fences, running up and down; And then we cut straight through a to\\Ti. I saw a valley, like a cup; And ponds that twinkled, and dried up. SECOND YEAR 29 I counted meadows, that were burnt; And there were trees, — and then there weren't! We crossed the bridges with a roar, Then hummed, the way we went before. And tunnels made it dark and hght Like open-work of day and night. Until I saw the chimneys rise. And lights and lights and lights, like eyes. And when they took me through the door, I heard It all begin to roar. — I thought — as far as I could see — That everybody wanted Me! Josephine Preston Peabody. From " The Book of the Little Past," by perraission of the author. THE WONDERFUL WORLD Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast, — World, you are beautifully drest. The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills. And talks to itself on the top of the hills. 30 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING You, friendly Earth ! how far do you go With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles. And people upon you for thousands of miles? Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, I tremble to think of you. World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, A whisper wdthin me seemed to say — "You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!" William Brighty Rands. By permission of John Lane, publisher. HOW MANY SECONDS IN A MINUTE? How manv seconds in a minute? Sixtv, and no more in it. How manv minutes in an hour? Sixty for sun and shower. How many hours in a day? Twenty-four for work and play. How many days in a w^eek? Seven both to hear and speak. How many weeks in a month? Four, as the swift moon runn'th. How many months in a year? Twelve^ the almanac makes clear. ■ SECOND YEAR 31 How many years in an age? One hundred, says the sage. How many ages in time? No one knows the rhyme. Christina G. Rossetti. MIERICA My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of hberty, Of thee I sing; Land where mv fathers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride. From every mountain side Let freedom ring. My native country, thee, Land of the noble free. Thy name I love; I love thv rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills, Like that above. Let music swell the breeze. And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song; Let mortal tongues awake. Let all that breathe partake. Let rocks their silence break. The sound prolong. 32 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Our fathers' God, to Thee, Author of hbertv, • To Thee we smg; Long may our land be bright With Freedom's holy light; Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our King. Samuel Francis Smith. MY SHADOW I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow — Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy -head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. Robert Louis Stevenson. SECOND YEAR 33 THE SWING How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle, and all Over the countrvside — Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown; — Up in the air I go flying again. Up in the air and down ! Robert Louis Stevenson. MEMORY GEMS There's nothing so kingly as kindness; And nothing so royal as truth. Hearts, like doors, will ope with ease To very, very little keys; / And don't forget that two of these Are, "Thank you, sir," and ''If you please." It is more blessed to give than to receive. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand. Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land. And the little moments. Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of Eternity. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love. Make our Earth an Eden, Like the heaven above. Julia A. Fletcher. 34 THIRD YEAR MARJORIE'S ALMANAC Robins in the tree-top, Blossoms in the grass, Green things a-growing Everywhere you pass; Sudden Uttle breezes. Showers of silver dew, Black bough and bent twig Budding out anew; Pine tree and willow tree, I* Fringed elm and larch, — Don't vou think that INIav-time's Pleasanter than March? Apples in the orchard Mellowing one by one; Strawberries upturning Soft cheeks to the sun; Roses faint with sweetness, Lilies fair of face, Drowsv scents and murmurs, Haunting every place; Lengths of golden sunshine. Moonlight bright as day, — Don't vou think that summer's Pleasanter than May? 35 36 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Roger in the corn-patch Whisthng negro songs; Pussy by the hearth side Romping with the tongs; Chestnuts in the ashes Bursting through the rind; Red leaf and gold leaf Rustling down the w^ind; Mother "doin' peaches" All the afternoon, — Don't you think that autumn's Pleasanter than June? Little fairv snow-flakes Dancing in the flue; Old Mr. Santa Claus, What is keeping you? Twilight and fire-light Shadows come and go; Merry chime of sleigh bells Tinkling through the snow; Mother knitting stockings (Pussy's got the ball), — Don't you think that Winter's Pleasanter than all? Thomas Bailey Aldi^ich. By permission of the author. O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by; THIRD YEAR 37 Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night. For Christ is born of Mary, And, gathered all above, While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love. O morning stars together Proclaim the holy birth ! And praises sing to God the King, And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently. The wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven. No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in. holy Child of Bethlehem! Descend to us, we pray; Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born in us to-day. We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell; Oh, come to us, abide with us. Our Lord Emmanuel ! Phillips Brooks. By permission of E. P. Button & Co. 38 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING NOVEMBER The leaves are fading and falling, The winds are rough and wild, The birds have ceased their calling, But let me tell vou, mv child, Though day by day, as it closes. Doth darker and colder grow. The roots of the bright red roses Will keep alive in the snow. And when the winter is over. The boughs will get new leaves, The quail come back to the clover. And the swallow back to the eaves. The robin will wear on his bosom A vest that is bright and new. And the loveliest wav-side blossom Will shine with the sun and dew. The leaves to-day are whirling, The brooks are all dry and dumb, But let me tell you, my darling, The spring will be sure to come. There must be rough, cold weather. And winds and rains so wild; Not all good things together Come to us here, my child. So, when some dear joy loses Its beauteous summer glow. Think how the roots of the roses Are kept alive in the snow. Alice Cary. THIRD YEAR 39 HE PRAYETH BEST He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. A CHILD'S PRAYER God make my life a little light, Within the world to glow; A tiny flame that burneth bright Wherever I may go. God make my life a little flower, That giveth joy to all, Content to bloom in native bower. Although its place be small. God make my life a little song. That comforteth the sad, That helpeth others to be strong. And makes the singer glad. God make my life a little staff. Whereon the weak may rest. That so what health and strength I have May serve my neighbor best. Matilda Betham-Edwards. 40 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING A BOY'S SONG Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout Hes asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That 's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest. Where the hay lies thick and greenest; There to trace the homeward bee. That's the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest. Where the shadow falls the deepest. Where the clustering nuts fall free. That 's the way for Billy and me. Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from their play, Or love to banter and fight so well. That's the thing I never could tell. But this I know, I love to play. Through the meadow, among the ha}^. Up the water and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. James Hogg. THIRD YEAR 41 CALLING THE VIOLET Dear little Viol^ Don't be afraid! Lift vour blue eves From the rock's mossy shade! All the birds call for vou Out of the sky: May is here, waiting, And here, too, am I. Why do vou shiver so, Viol^ sweet? Soft is the meadow-grass Under my feet. Wrapped in your hood of green, Violet, why Peep from your earth-door So silent and shy? Trickle the little brooks Close to your bed; Softest of fleecy clouds Float overhead. II i( Ready and waiting!" The slender reeds sigh: Ready and waiting!" We sing — ]May and I. Come, pretty Violet, Winter's away: Km ^I^IK' "THK ";3m- *t n».":s - fa^k. "Sit ^^f ~i%x- YriL - LdctL TBDSD TSL±R ^ A VBn FROTI SAINT SIC Not a CTf^^ir^ TTi Tike ~ : . -''""^ THrr*?- hTm^r "^ In bf^C"*?*? TiT 5* '•* Tine A - hipr E -^-?d - - — Wlien \ . ' " - I rprajiz f^ML ■_ ' -- . ' Airav ~r, ^ji-T "^ . ' -' Tore open r: The mpm r GavTea-_--r :- - But a 1 -'^'. - -iT, I kz^ f^ - - Add }yfz ^- ' " - - " Voir. rK.._.: _ _ _ On. Coroet ! i.r ' - _ ■ . l . — To "die tc-p cc T_: - - _ - - - - — Now. (ia^fi ais-aT. _ As drv leaves uiai *: - ■ " " . Ar:^ t&esBL, in a " — r 1 2 _ As I own TTi-r ^^^^ - ^__: - --'flag csz!:^ ~^~^ 44 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot: A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth. And the smoke, it encircled his head like a \\Teath. He had a broad face, and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work. And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" Clement Clarke Moore, BOBOLINK Bobolink — He is here! Sinnk-a-chink! Hark! how clear Drops the note From his throat. THIRD YEAR 45 Where he sways On the spra^'S Of the wheat In the heat! Bobohnk, Spink-a'chink] Bobohnk Is a beau! See him prink! Watch him go Through the air To his fair! Hear him sing On the wing, — Sing his best O'er her nest: "Bobohnk, Spink-a-chink ! '' Bobohnk, Linger long! There 's a kink In your song Like the joy Of a boy Left to run In the sun, — Left to play All the dav. Bobolink, Spink-a-chink! Clinton Scoll.\rd. By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 46 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING FRAIDIE-CAT I shan't tell vou what's his name: When we want to play a game, Always thinks that he'll be hurt, Soil his jacket in the dirt, Tear his trousers, spoil his hat, — Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! Nothing of the boy in him! ^'Dasn't" try to learn to swim; Says a cow'll hook; if she Looks at him he'll climb a tree. " Scart" to death at bee or bat, — Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! Claims the 're ghosts all snowy white Wandering around at night In the attic: wouldn't go There for anything, I know. B'lieve he'd run if vou said "Scat!" Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! Clinton Scollard. From "A Boy's Book of Rhyme," by permission of the author. THE SANDMAN The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down: And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, And as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. THIRD YEAR 47 Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes Through the town. From sunny beaches far away — Yes, in another land — He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, No ships may sail that way; His little boat alone mav float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown. As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes Through the town. He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes; And every child right well he tnows, — Oh, he is very wise! But if, as he goes through the land, A naughty baby cries, His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eves. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes Through the town. So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A- waiting on the street. Lie softly down, dear little head, Rest quiet, busy hands. Till by your bed his good-night saidj He strews the shining sands. 48 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes Through the town. Margaret Vandergrift. COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean, The home of the brave and the free. The shrine of each patriot's devotion, A world offers homage to thee; Thy mandates make heroes assemble. When Liberty's form stands in view; Thy banners make tyranny tremble. When borne by the red, white and blue. When war wing'd its wide desolation, And threaten 'd the land to deform, The ark then of freedom's foundation, Columbia rode safe through the storm: With the garlands of victory around her. When so proudly she bore her brave crew, With her flag floating proudly before her. The boast of the red, white and blue. The star-spangled banner bring hither. O'er Columbia's true sons let it w^ave; May the wreaths they have won never wither. Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave; May the service united ne'er sever. But hold to their colors so true; The army and navy forever. Three cheers for the red, white and blue. MEMORY GEMS If a task is once begun, Never leave it till it's done; Be the labor great or small, Do it well or not at all. We can do more good by being good than in any other way. All that's great and good is done Just by patient trying. /^ Gary. Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. ^ Chesterfield. You cannot change yesterday, that is clear, Or begin to-morrow until it is here. So the onlv thing left for vou and for me Is to make to-dav as sweet as can be. Beautiful hands are those who do Work that is earnest and brave and true. Moment by moment, the long day through. Longfellow. The truth is always the strongest argument. Sophocles. The manly part is to do with might and main what you can do. Emerson. 49 FOURTH YEAR FAIRY FOLK A CHILD S SONG Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting . For fear of httle men; Wee folk, good folk. Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, — They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide foam: Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake. With frogs for their watch dogs, All night awake. High on the hill-top The old King sits: He is now so old and gray He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; 50 FOURTH YEAR 51 Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights. They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow, They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lakes. On a bed of flag leaves, Watching till she wakes. By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig one up in spite, He shall find the thornies set In his bed at night. Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen. We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men: Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together: Green jacket, red cap. And white owl's feather! WlLLIA]M AlLINGIL^AI. 52 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING THE NIGHT WIND Have you ever heard the wind go "Yoooooo?" 'Tis a pitiful sound to hear! It seems to chill you through and through With a strange and speechless fear. 'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside When folks should be asleep, And many and many's the time I've cried To the darkness brooding far and wide Over the land and the deep: "Whom do you want, O lonely night. That you wail the long hours through?" And the night would say in its ghostly way : "Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo ! " My mother told me long ago When I was a little lad That when the night went wailing so, Somebody had been bad; And then, when I was snug in bed, Whither I had been sent. With the blankets pulled up round my head, I'd think of what my mother 'd said! And wonder what boy she meant. And, "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask Of the wind that hoarsely blew. And the voice would say in its meaningful way: "Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo!" That this was true, I must allow — You'll not believe it, though! Yes, though I'm quite a model now, I was not always so. FOURTH YEAR 53 And if you doubt what things I say, Suppose you make the test; Suppose that when you've been bad some day, And up to bed are sent away From mother and the rest — Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?" And then you'll hear what's true; For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone: "Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo ! " Eugene Field. From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: published by Charles Scribner's Sons. JACK FROST The Frost looked forth one still, clear night. And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; So through the valley, and over the height, In silence Fll take my way. I will not go on like that blustering train. The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain. That make so much bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they!" So he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest; He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast Of the quivering lake, he spread A coat of mail, that it need not fear The glittering point of many a spear. Which he hung on its margin, far and near, Where a rock could rear its head. 54 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane, Uke a fairy, crept; Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped. By the hght of the morn were seen Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees; There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees; There were cities with temples and towers; and these All pictured in silver sheen! But he did one thing that was hardly fair — He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there That all had forgotten for him to prepare, "Now, just to set them a-thinking, I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; And the glass of water they've left for me Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!" Hannah Flagg Gould. SEPTEMBER The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down. The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun. The sedges flaunt their harvest, In everv meadow nook; And asters by the brook-side Make asters in the brook. FOURTH YEAR 55 From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies. By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather, And autumn's best of cheer. But none of all this beauty Which floods the earth and air Is unto me the secret Which makes September fair. 'Tis a thing which I remember; To name it thrills me yet; One day of one September I never can forget. Helen Hunt Jackson. By permission of Little, Brown & Co. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face. For he owes not any man. 56 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Week in, week out, from morn till night. You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell. When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice. Singing in the village choir. And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more. How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin. Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. FOURTH YEAR 57 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of hfe Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE CHILDREN'S HOUR Between the dark and the daylight. When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet. The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight. Descending the broad hall stair. Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair. A whisper, and then a silence : Yet I know by their merry eyes They are plotting and planning together To take me by surprise. A sudden rush from the stairway, A sudden raid from the hall ! By three doors left unguarded They enter my castle wall ! 58 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING They climb up into my turret O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere. They almost devour me with kisses, Their arms about me entwine. Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, Because you have scaled the wall, ' Such an old mustache as I am Is not a match for you all! I have you fast in my fortress. And will not let you depart. But put you down into the dungeon In the round-tower of my heart. And there I will keep you forever. Yes, forever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in dust away! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE WIND AND THE INIOON Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair. Always looking what I am about — I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out." FOURTH YEAR 59 The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon." He turned in his bed; she was there again! On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye. The Moon shone white and alive and plain. Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again.'' The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. " With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge! If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim." He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. " One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread." He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. In the air Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shv stars shone — Sure and certain the Moon was gone! / 60 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar — "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more! He flew in a rage — he danced and blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain ; For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew. Slowly she grew — till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful silvery light. Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night. Said the Wind : " What a marvel of power am I ! With my breath, Good faith! I blew her to death — First blew her away right out of the sky — Then blew her in; what strength have I!" But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; For high In the sky. With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air. She had never heard the great Wind blare. George MacDonald. FOURTH YEAR 61 THE BLUEBIRD I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing, Out in the apple tree where he is swinging. Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary, Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheer3\ Hark ! how the music leaps out from his throat ! Hark! was there ever so merry a note? Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying. Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying: "Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, You must be weary of winter, I know; Hark! while I sing you a message of cheer, Summer is coming, and spring-time is here! "Little white snowdrop, I pray you, arise; Bright yellow crocus, come, open your eyes; Sweet little violets hid from the cold. Put on your mantles of purple and gold: Daffodils, daffodils! say, do you hear? Summer is coming, and spring-time is here!" Emily Huntington ]Miller. By permission of the author. JIM CROW Oh, say, Jim Crow, Why is it you always go With a gloomy coat of black The year long on your back? Why don't you change its hue. At least for a day or two. To red or green or blue? 62 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING And why do you always wear Such a sober, sombre air, As glum as the face of Care? I wait for your reply, And into the peaceful pause There comes your curious, croaking cry, - "Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" Oh, say, Jim Crow, Why, when the farmers sow. And the corn springs up in the row, And the days that once were brief Grow long, and laugh into leaf, Do you play the rascally thief? I can see by the look in your eye, — Wary and wise and sly, — That you know the code in vogue; Why will you, then, oh, why. Persist in the path of the rogue? I hearken for 3'our reply. And into the empty pause There rings your graceless, grating cry,— "Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" And say, Jim Crow, With all the lore you know, — Lore of the wood and field. Lore of the clouds, and the clear Depths of the atmosphere, To our duller ken concealed, — Whv is it vou ever speak With a mingled squawk and squeak? You, with your talents all, And your knowledge of this and that. FOURTH YEAR 63 Why must you sing like a squall, And talk like a perfect "flat?" I listen for your reply, But in the lapse and the pause All I hear is your impudent cry, — "Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" Clinton Scollard. From "The Lyric Bough," by permission of the author. SWEET AND LOW Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea. Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go. Come from the dying moon, and blow. Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest. Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast. Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest. Silver sails all out of the west. Under the silver moon; Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. Alfred, Lord Tennyson. THE BAREFOOT BOY Blessings on thee, little man. Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons. And thy merry whistled tunes; 64 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING With thy red Up, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican. Let the million-dollared ride ! Barefoot, trudging at his side. Thou hast more than he can buy In the reach of ear and eye, — Outward sunshine, inward joy; Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! Oh for boyhood's painless play, Sleep that wakes in laughing day. Health that mocks the doctor's rules. Knowledge never learned of schools. Of the wild bee's morning chase. Of the wild-flower's time and place. Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell. And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young. How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow. Where the freshest berries grow. Where the ground-nut trails its vine. Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay. rOUKTH YEAR 65 And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans! For, eschewing books and tasks, Nature answers all he asks; Hand in hand with her he walks, Face to face with her he talks, Part and parcel of her joy, — Blessings on the barefoot boy! Oh for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon, When all things I heard or saw. Me, their master, waited for. I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played. Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone; Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond. Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides ! Still as my horizon grew. Larger grew my riches too; All the world I saw or knew Seemed a complex Chinese toy. Fashioned for a barefoot boy! Oh for festal dainties spread, Like my bow^l of milk and bread; 66 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, On the door-stone, gray and rude! O'er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent. Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, Looped in many a wind-swung fold; While for music came the play Of the pied frogs' orchestra; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch: pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can! Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool \\dnd kiss the heat: All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride. Lose the freedom of the sod. Like a colt's for work be shod. Made to tread the mills of toil, Up and down in ceaseless moil; Happy if their track be found . Never on forbidden ground; Happy if they sink not in Quick and treacherous sands of sin. Ah ! that thou couldst know thy joy. Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! John Greenleaf Whittier. FOURTH YEAR 67 LUCY GRAY Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray: And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The sohtary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the faw^n at play, The hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. " To-night will be a stormy night — You to the town must go; And take a lantern. Child, to light Your mother through the snow." "That, Father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcelv afternoon — The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work ; — and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe: With manv a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the pow^dery snow, That rises up like smoke. 68 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb: But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept — and, turning homeward, cried, "In heaven we all shall meet;" — When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Then downwards from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small; And through the broken hawthorn hedge, And by the long stone- wall; And then an open field they crossed: The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one. Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none! FOURTH YEAR 69 — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a hving child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. William Wordsworth. MEMORY GEMS Contentment is better than riches. A THING of beauty is a joy forever. Keats. Heaven helps those who help themselves. Benjamin Franklin. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Bible. Lives of great men all remind us, We can make our lives sublime; And, departing, leave behind us, Foot-prints on the sands of time. Longfellow. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the vear. If wisdom's ways you'd wisely seek, Five things observe with care: Of whom you speak, to whom you speak, And how, and when, and where. 70 MEMORY GEMS 71 Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all. Holmes. To look up and not down, To look forward and not back, To look out and not in, and To lend a hand. Hale. Habit is a cable ; we weave a thread of it every day, and at last we cannot break it. Horace Mann. . BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES Thomas Bailey Aldrich, an American journalist, poet and novelist, was born at Portsmouth, N. H., in 1836, and died at Boston in 1907. He became connected with the Atlantic Monthly and in 1883 was made its editor. Among his books of poems are "Cloth of Gold," "Flower and Thorn," "Friar Jerome's Beautiful Book." Among his best known prose works are " The Story of a Bad Boy " and " Prudence Palfrey." He is also a wTiter of short stories, the best of which is "Marjorie Daw." His style is charming, graceful, and genuinely witty. Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexander, an Irish poet and novelist, was born in 1818 at Straebane, Ireland, and died in 1895 at Londonderry. Her publications include stories and poems for children, all written anonymously. She is best known as a writer of religious poems. William Allingil^m, an Irish poet, was born in Bally- shannon, Ireland, in 1828; died in 1889. He began writing at an early age. Removing to England, he was appointed to a position in the customs. He published a volume of poems in 1850 and "Day and Night Songs" in 1854. Phillips Brooks, an American clergyman and relig- ious writer, was born in Boston, Mass., in 1835; died there in 1893. He was educated at the Boston Latin School and Harvard L^niversity. He was a magnetic, forceful, and sympathetic preacher and was one of the 73 74 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING foremost pulpit orators of America. All of his writings are spiritual in character. Henry Cuyler Bunner, an American poet, journal- ist and writer of short stories, was born at Oswego, N. Y., in 1855; died at Nutley, N. J., in 1896. He was not a college graduate but was always a careful student and an energetic worker. In 1877 he became assistant editor of Puck and soon afterwards its chief editor. He did some of his best work for this paper. Alice Gary was born near Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1820, and died at New York in 1871. She and her sister, Phoebe Gary, came to New York in early womanhood and soon won a place in the literary life of that city. While she wrote novels and sketches of western life, her principal literary production was of verse. Her poems are marked by grace and simple melody. Samuel Taylor Goleridge, an English poet and philosopher, was born at Ottery St. Mary, England, in 1772; died at Highgate, London, in 1834. As a boy he was recognized as a genius. He went to Jesus Gollege, Gambridge, but left there before he took his degree. He wrote his best poetry before he was twenty-eight years of age; after that his notable writings were prose. Among his best poems are "The Ode on the Departing Year," "Ghristabel," and the "Ancient Mariner." To- sjether with Southev and Wordsworth he formed what is known as the Lake School of Poets. Matilda Barbara Betham-Edwards, an English novelist, was born at Westerfield, Suffolk, in 1836. She has written numerous novels and books for children. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 75 Eugene Field, an American poet and journalist, was born at Chicago in 1850, and died in 1895. Aftei- studying at Williams College, Knox College and the University of Missouri, he went abroad. Upon his re- turn he began to write for several papers in his native State. In 1881, while writing for the Denver Tribune, he came forward as a writer of humorous sketches. He then joined the staff of the Chicago Daily Neics and in the "Sharps and Flats" column of that paper first ap- peared the children's poems and dialect poems which have made him famous, not only in x\merica but in Europe. Among them "Little Boy Blue," "A Dutch Lullaby" ("Wynken, Blynken and Nod") and half a dozen others are already classic. These poems inspired by his love for children are, in their mingled quaint- ness, humor and pathos, comparable only to similar work of Robert Louis Stevenson. Hannah Flagg Gould, an American poet, was born at Lancaster, Mass., in 1789; died in 1865. She has written many poems in a simple and pleasing style. James Hogg, a Scottish poet and prose writer, was known as "The Ettrick Shepherd." He was born in the Ettrick Forest in 1770; died at Eltrive Lake in 1835. His prose writings do not possess the same merit as his poems, and the latter, with the exception of "The Boy's Song" and "Kilmeny" are only mediocre. Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton, an English poet and miscellaneous writer, was born in London, 1809, and died in 1885. He was exceptionally successful as a writer of songs to be set to music. iVmong his works are "Poems, Legendary and Historical," 76 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING "Palm Leaves," "Life Letters and Literary Remains of John Keats." Jean Ingelow, an English poet and writer of romance, was born in Boston, Lincolnshire, in 1830; died at Kensington in 1897. Her poems, especially "High Tide off the Coast of Lincolnshire," "Divided," the "Songs of Seven" and other lyrics, are replete with true poetic insight and feeling. She attained popularity in America as well as in England. Her poems are written in strong but simple language. Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, an American novelist and poet, was born at Amlierst, Mass., in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her verse is characterized by sympathy with all human joy and sorrow and deep feeling for the beauty and truth embodied in nature. Her best prose works are "A Century of Dishonor" and a fine romance of early Spanish and Indian life in California entitled "Ramona," in which the rights of the Indians, towards whom she was always compassionate, are earnestly championed. Lucy Larcom was born at Beverly Farms, Mass., in 1826 and died in 1893. She was for a number of years the editor oijOur Young Folks. Her writings include stories for children and several volumes of poems. Edward Lear was born in London, England, in 1813 and died in 1888. He was a landscape painter of some merit and an author of nonsense verse and songs for children. Mr. Lear was a friend of Tennyson, who addressed to him some of his poems. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, an American poet, was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cam- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 77 bridge, Mass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bowdoin College in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel Haw- thorne, and the following year received the appointment of Professor of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater. He studied three years in Europe before taking up his duties. In 1835, having received an appointment in Harvard College, he moved to Cambridge and made his home there during the remainder of his life. He is, per- haps, the most popular of the American poets; for the truth and simplicity of his sentiments and the graceful manner in which they are expressed appeal to humanity. In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," "Hiawatha" and "The Courtship of Miles Standish," he has done much to immortalize incidents in American history. Among his well-known shorter poems are "The Children's Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Village Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." George MacDonald, a Scottish poet and novelist, was born at Huntley, Aberdeenshire, in 1824 and was educated at the University of Aberdeen. He studied theology and became an independent minister, but later resigned the ministry, went to London and began his literary work. He afterwards removed to Italy. Among the best of his novels are "The Annals of a Quiet Neigh- borhood " and "Donald Grant." He died in 1905. Emily Huntington Miller, an American juvenile writer, was born at Brooklyn, Conn., in 1833. She was educated at Oberlin College and in 1860 was married to John E. Miller, also a graduate of Oberlin. Mrs. Miller's literary work began when she was a school-girl. Her productions were published in all of the leading periodi- cals for children. 78 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Dr. Clement Clarke Moore, an American scholar and poet, was born at New York in 1779 and died at Newport, R. I., in 1863. He was for many years Pro- fessor of Oriental and Greek Literature in the General Theological Seminary in New York City. He published several Greek and Hebrew textbooks, but is best remem- bered as the author of the verses " 'Twas the Night Before Christmas." This poem, sometimes called "A Visit from St. Nicholas," was founded upon an old Dutch legend, and has become a classic for children. Josephine Preston Peabody (Mrs. Lionel S. Marks) was born at New York; studied at Radcliffe College and was an instructor in English literature at Wellesley College. She has written delightful poems for children and has contributed to the leading maga- zines. She has also written several poetical dramas, the most recent one of which, "The Piper," founded upon Browning's poem "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," was successfully produced at the New Theatre, New York, during the season of 1911. Willlaj^i Brighty PtANDS, an English novelist and poet, was born in 1827 and died in 1882. He contributed largely to periodical literature under the pseudonym of ]\Iatthew Browne. Christina G. Rossetti, an English poet of some re- nown, was born in London in 1830 and died in 1894. Among her well-known poems are "The Prince's Prog- ress," "Sing Song," "A Pageant," "Time Flies." Clinton Scollard, an American poet, was born at Clinton, N. Y., in 1860. After graduating at Hamilton College he studied at Harvard and also abroad. He BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 79 has published the following volumes of poems: " Pictures in Songs," "With Reed and Lyre," "Old and New Lvrics," ^'A Boy's Book of Rhyme," "The Lyric Bough." Samuel Francis Smith, author of " My Country, 'tis of Thee," was an American clergyman and poet, born in Boston in 1808; died there in 1895. He graduated at Harvard in 1829 in the same class with Oliver Wendell Holmes. He wrote the National Hymn while at Andover studying theology. It was written for a children's Fourth of July celebration and was first publicly sung in the Park Street Church in Boston. Robert Louis Stevenson, a Scottish novelist, essayist, and poet, was born at Edinburgh in 1850; died at Apia, Samoa, in 1894. He received his education at Cambridge, studied law and was admitted to the bar. He began his literary career by contributing to magazines. In 1879 he came to America and crossed the continent in an emigrant car. In his prose writings he combines powers of imagination and an unsurpassed faculty of telling a story with a finished and polished style. His poems of childhood show an unerring and sympathetic knowledge of child nature. Of his many novels "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is the most widelv known. Some of his other works are "Treasure Island," "Kidnapped," "Prince Otto," "The Wrecker," "L^nderwoods," "Across the Plains" and "A Child's Garden of Verse." Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1850 80 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING he was appointed Poet Laureate of England through Prince Albert's admiration for "In Memoriam." He was buried in the Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey, near Chaucer. Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of the King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "Locksley Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of poetic genius and all of them are finished and artistic. This is especially true of his lyrics, such as the "Bugle Song" and the "Cradle Song." Margaret Vandergrift is the pen name under which Margaret Janvier, an American novelist and poet, wrote. She w^as born in New Orleans in 1844, and has published some stories for girls and a number of poems. John Greenleaf Whittier was born in the town of Haverhill, Mass., on Dec. 17, 1807, and died in 1892. He is known as the "Quaker poet" and also as the "poet of freedom." Poverty stood in the way of an education, but by wide and well-chosen reading he complemented his rather meagre schooling. That he was never robust in health was probably due to the hard work and expos- ure of his boyhood on his father's farm, but his spirit was strong. He allied himself with the cause of freedom and wrote many anti-slavery poems. "Voices of Freedom" ap- peared in 1849. Another collection, "House Ballads," includes "Maud Muller," "Barefoot Boy," "Angels of Buena Vista," "Skipper Ireson's Ride." "Barbara Frietchie" appeared in the collection entitled "In War Time" and is one of his best known poems. Whittier's greatest fame is as a writer of stories in verse, and as a writer of lyrics, some of which are among BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 81 the most beautiful in our language. "Snow-Bound" is a vivid portrayal of New England life. William Wordsworth, one of the foremost of English poets, was born at Cockermouth among the hills of northwestern England in 1770. After his graduation from Cambridge University in 1791 he went to France. While there he became ardently interested in the cause of the French Revolution but was prevented by his friends from joining the revolutionists. After a period of travel he settled in the lake region of England, where he spent the greater part of his long life in a close friendship with Coleridge, Southey and other writers. In his poems Wordsworth shows a keen delight in nature and a sympathy with common life. While his poems are uneven in quality some of them are among the finest verse of the English language. His "Ode on Intimations of Immortality" has been called the "high water mark of poetry " in the nineteenth century. Wordsworth was appointed Poet Laureate in 1843 and died in 1850. INDEX BY TITLES All Things Bright and Beautiful America Barefoot Boy, The Bluebird, The Bobolink Boy's Song, A Brown Thrush, The Calling the Violet Children's Hour, The Child's Prayer, A Columbia the Gem of the Ocean Dutch Lullaby, A Fairy Folk Foreign Children ....;.. Fraidie-Cat Alexander Smith . . Whittier Miller . Scollard Hogg . Larcom Larcom . Longfellow Edwards Field Allingham Stevenson Scollard . PAGE 11 31 63 61 44 40 26 41 57 39 48 23 50 16 46 He Prayeth Best How Many Seconds in a Minute? . Coleridge Rossetti . 39 30 I Saw a Ship A-Sailing 20 Jack Frost . Jim Crow . . Journey, The Lady Moon Lucy Gray Making a House . Marjorie's Almanac Gould . . . Scollard . . Peabody . . Houghton . Wordsworth Peabody . . Aldrich . . 53 61 28 25 67 13 35 83 84 INDEX BY TITLES My Shadow Stevenson Night Wind, The Field . . November Cary . . O Lady Moon Rossetti O Little Town of Bethlehem .... Brooks "One, Two, Three" Bunner Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The .... Lear . Sandman, The Vandergrift September Jackson . Seven Times One Ingelow . Sweet and Low Tennyson Swing, The Stevenson Village Blacksmith, The Longfellow Visit from St. Nicholas, A Moore What Does the Bee Do? Rossetti . Where Go the Boats Stevenson Who Has Seen the Wind? Rossetti . Wind, The Stevenson Wind and the Moon, The MacDonald Wonderful World, The Rands . . PAGE 32 52 38 14 36 22 27 Rhymes Mother Goose 17-19 Rock-a-By Lady Field 12 46 54 25 63 33 55 43 14 15 13 14 58 29 INDEX BY AUTHORS Aldrich, Thomas Bailey . Alexander, Cecil Frances Allingham, William . . . Brooks, Phillips , Bunner, Henry Cuyler . Gary, Alice Coleridge, Sajviuel Taylor PAGE Marjorie's Almanac . . 35 All Things Bright and Beautiful 11 Fairy Folk 50 O Little Town of Beth- lehem "One, Two, Three" November .... He Prayeth Best . Edwards, Matilda Betham . . Child's Prayer, A Field, Eugene Dutch Lullaby, A Night Wmd, The Rock-a-By Lady Gould, Hannah Flagg Jack Frost . . . Hogg, James Houghton, Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Ingelow", Jean Jackson, Helen Hunt Larcom, Lucy Lear, Edward Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 85 . 36 . 22 , 38 39 39 23 52 12 53 40 25 25 54 Brown Thrush, Tlie . . 26 Calling the Violet ... 41 Owl and the Pussy-Gat, The 27 Children's Hour, The . 57 Village Blacksmith, The 55 Boy's Song, A . Lady Moon . . Seven Times One September . . . INDEX BY AUTHORS PAGE MacDonald, George Wind and the Moon, The 58 Miller, Emily Huntington . . Bluebird, The ... 61 Moore, Clement Clarke . . . Visit from St. Nicholas, A 43 Mother Goose Rhymes 17-19 Peabody, Josephine Preston Rands, William Brighty Rossetti, Christina G. Journey, The . . Making a House . 28 13 Scollard, Clinton Smith, Samuel Francis Stevenson, Robert Louis Wonderful World, The 29 How Many Seconds in a Mmute? 30 O Lady Moon .... 14 What Does the Bee Do? 14 Who Has Seen the Wind? 13 Bobolink 44 Fraidie-Cat 46- Jim Crow 61 America 31 Foreign Children ... 16 My Shadow 32 Swing, The 33 Where go the Boats . . 15 Wind, The 14 Tennyson, Alfred. Lord , , Vandergrift, Margaret . . Whittier, John Greenleaf Wordsworth, William . . . Sweet and Low Sandman, The 63 46 Barefoot Boy, The . . 63 Lucy Gray 67 Columbia the Gem of the Ocean 48 I saw a Ship A-Sailing 20 CONTENTS PAGE FIFTH YEAR Selections for Memorizing 3 Memory Gems 18 History Selections for Collateral Reading .... 20 SIXTH YEAR Selections for Memorizing 33 Memory Gems 45 History Selections for Collateral Reading .... 47 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 70 INDEX BY TITLES 83 INDEX BY AUTHORS 85 IX BOOK TWO FIFTH YEAR SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING ROBERT OF LINCOLN * Merrily s^^^nging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his httle dame, Over the mountainside or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telUng his name, "Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-hnk, Spink, spank, spink. Snug and safe is that nest of ours. Hidden among the summer flowers. Cliee, chee, chee!" Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed. Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat; White are his shoulders, and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note, "Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink. Look what a nice new coat is mine; Sure, there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee!" Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife. Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings. Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings, 3 FIFTH YEAR "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Chee, chee, cheeT' Modest and sh}^ as a nun is she; One weak chirp is her only note; Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his httle throat, "Bob-o'-Unk, bob-o'-hnk, Spink, spank, spink. Never was I afraid of man, Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. Chee, chee, chee!" Six white eggs on a bed of hay. Flecked with purple, a pretty sight; There, as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might, "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Nice good wife that never goes out. Keeping house while I frolic about. Chee, chee, chee!" Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Six wide mouths are open for food; Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well. Gathering seeds for the himgry brood; "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Chee, chee, chee!" SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work, and silent with care; Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air, "Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Nobodv knows, but mv mate and I, Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee!" Summer wanes, the children are grown, Fun and frolic no more he knows, Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone, Off he flies and we sing as he goes, "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, When you can pipe that merry old strain, Robert of Lincoln, come back again. Chee, chee, chee!" William Cullen Bryant. By permission of D. Appleton & Company. THE TREE The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown; *' Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down. "No, leave them alone Till the blossoms have grown," Praved the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown. The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung; "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind as he swung. FIFTH YEAR i( No, leave them alone Till the berries have grown," Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung. The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; Said the girl, "May I gather thy berries now?" "Yes, all thou canst see; Take them: all are for thee," Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low. Bjornstjerne Bjornson. By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. TO-DAY Here hath been dawning Another blue day: Think, wilt thou let it Slip useless away? Out of Eternity This new day was born; Into Eternity At night, will return. Behold it aforetime No eye ever did; So soon it forever From all eyes is hid. Here hath been dawning Another blue day: Think, wilt thou let it Slip useless away? Thomas Carlyle. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 7 OLD IRONSIDES 1 Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout. And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood. Where knelt the vanquished foe, TOien winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below. No more shall feel the victor's tread. Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea ! Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag. Set everv threadbare sail. And give her to the god of storms. The lightning and the gale! Oliver Wendell Holmes. 1 Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with Sixth Year History. 8 FIFTH YEAR OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER O SUNS and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather. When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And golden-rod is dying fast. And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning; When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining; When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair. Late aftermaths are growing; When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting. Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting; When comrades seek sweet country haunts, By twos and twos together, n And count like misers hour l)v hour, October's bright blue weather. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 9 O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather. Helen Hunt Jackson. By permission of Little, Brown & Co, THE SHIP OF STATE From " The Building of the Skip J) Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears. With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what blaster laid thv keel. What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat. In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail. And not the rent made by the gale! In spite of rock and tempests' roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 10 FIFTH YEAR THE BUILDERS All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest. For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled; Our to-da^' s and yesterdays t^ k/ f Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these; Leaye no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees. Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see eyerywhere. Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwells Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our liyes are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climh SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 11 Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky. Henry W.u)sworth Longfellow. HOME, SWEET HOME 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there. Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with else- where. Home, home, sweet, sweet home! There's no place like home! there's no place like home! An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again! The birds singing gayly, that came at my call, — Give me them, — and the peace of mind, dearer than all ! Home, home, sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home! there's no place like home! How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile, And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile! Let others delight 'mid new pleasures to roam. But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home! Home, home, sweet, sw^eet home! There's no place like home! there's no place like home! 12 FIFTH YEAR To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there; No more from that cottage again will I roam; Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home! there's no place like home! John Howard Payne. WARREN'S ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN SOLDIERS 1 Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Read it on yon bristling steel! Ask it, — ye who will. Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your homes retire? Look behind you! they're afire! And, before you, see Who have done it ! — From the vale On they come! — And will ye quail? — Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust! Die we may, — and die we must; * Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection wit h Sixth Year History. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 13 But, oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well. As where Heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed. And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell ! John Pierpont. LULLABY FOR TITANLA. From " A Midsummer Nighfs Dream First Fairy jj You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Chorus Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, luUa, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm. Nor spell, nor charm. Come our lovely lady nigh! So good-night, with lullaby. Second Fairy Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence; Beetles black, approach not near; Worni, nor snail, do no offence. 14 FIFTH YEAR Chorus Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm, Nor spell, nor charm. Come our lovely lady nigh! So good-night, with lullaby. \yiLLiAM Shakespeare. THE BLUE JAY Blue Jay up in the maple-tree, Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee, How did you happen to be so blue? Did you steal a bit of the lake for your crest, And fasten blue violets into your vest? Tell me, I pray you, — tell me true! Did you dip your wings in azure dye. When April began to paint the sky. That was pale with the winter's stay? Or were 3^ou hatched from a blue-bell bright, 'Neath the warm, gold breast of a sunbeam light. By the river one blue spring day? ^ O Blue Jay up in the maple-tree, A-tossing your saucy head at me. With ne'er a word for my questioning, Pray, cease for a moment your " ting-a-link,'' And hear when I tell you what I think, — You bonniest bit of spring. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 15 I think when the fairies made the flowers, To grow in these mossy fields of ours, Periwinkles and violets rare, There was left of the spring's own color, blue. Plenty to fashion a flower whose hue Would be richer than all and as fair. So, putting their wits together, they Made one great blossom so bright and gay, The lily beside it seemed blurred: And then they said, "We will toss it in air; So many blue blossoms grow everywhere. Let this pretty one be a bird!" Susan Hartley Swett. By permission of Dana Estes & Co. THE BROOK I COME from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern. To bicker down the valley. By thirty hills I hurrv down. Or slip between the ridges. By twenty thorps, a little town. And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river; For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. 16 FIFTH YEAR I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow. And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter as I flow To join the brimming river; For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout. And here and there a grayling, And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel. With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel. And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come, and men may go. But I go on forever. I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers, I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 17 I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars, I loiter round mv cresses. And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. Alfred, Lord Tennyson. MEMORY GEMS Pleasure comes through toil; when one gets to love his work, his life is a happy one. ' RUSKIN. He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. - The Bible. The best hearts are always the bravest. Sterne. Our life is what our thoughts make it. ^ Do not make a weak excuse, Waiting, weak, unsteady; All obedience worth the name Must be prompt and ready. Truth lies at the bottom of the well. Handsome is that handsome does. Goldsmith. Count that day lost whose low descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done. 18 MEMORY GEMS .r^ ,; , .- ' ^-^ A So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near to God is man, When Duty whispers low, "Thou must," The youth rephes "I can." Emerson. A FRIEND in need is a friend indeed. One cannot always be a hero, But one can always be a man. Goethe. Our to-days and yesterdays are the blocks with which we build. Longfellow. A MERRY heart doeth good like a medicine. The Bible. I DO not think much of the man who is not wiser to-day than he was yesterday. Lincoln. Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies. Pope. Be not simply good; be good for something. Thoreau. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING THE SKELETON IN ARMOR "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms. Why dost thou haunt me? " Then from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee! Take heed that in thv verse Thou dost the tale rehearse. Else dread a dead man's curse; For this I sought thee. 20 HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 21 " Far in the Northern land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen sound. That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on. "Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear. While, from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf 's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew. Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped. Many the hearts that bled. By our stern orders. "Many a wassail-bout Wore the long winter out; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing. As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale. Draining the oaken pail Filled to o'erflowing. 22 FIFTH YEAR "Once as I told in glee Tales of the storm}' sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine. On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendour. "I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid. And in the forest's shade . Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast. Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted. "Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall. Loud sang the minstrels all. Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story. "While the brown ale he quaffed. Loud then the champion laughed. And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn. Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam lightly. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 23 "She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded ! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight? Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded? " Scarce had I put to sea. Bearing the maid with me, — Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen ! — When on the white sea-strand. Waving his armed hand, Saw we old Hildebrand, With twentv horsemen. "Then launched they to the blast. Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, \Mien the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail; ^ Death!' was the helmsman's hail, ' Death without quarter ! ' Midships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water! 24 FIFTH YEAR "As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt. With his prey laden. So toward the open main, Beating to sea again. Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for mv ladv's bower Built I the loftv tower Which to this very hour Stands looking seaward. "There lived we manv vears; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears. She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes; Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another. " Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen ! Hateful to me were men. The sunlight hateful ! In the vast forest here. Clad in my warlike gear. Fell I upon my spear. Oh, death was grateful ! HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 25 "Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!" Thus the tale ended. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. COLUMBUS Behind him lay the gray Azores, Behind, the gates of Hercules; Before him not the ghost of shores. Before him only shoreless seas. The good mate said: "Now must we pray, For lo! the very stars are gone; Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" "Why, say, ' Sail on! sail on! and on! " "My men grow mutinous day by day; My men grow ghastly wan and weak. " The stout mate thought of home; a spray Of salt wave wash'd his sw^arthy cheek. " What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say. If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" "Why, you shall say, at break of day: 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on! ^" They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow. Until at last the blanched mate said: "Why, now not even God would know ' Should I and all my men fall dead. J> 26 FIFTH YEAR These very winds forget their way, For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak, and say He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: ".This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. He curls his lip, he lies in wait, With lifted teeth as if to bite! Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone? " The words leapt as a leaping sword : Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" (( Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — Alight! Alight! Alight! Alight! It grew — a star-lit flag unfurled ! It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world! he gave that world Its grandest lesson : "On! sail on!" Joaquin Miller. From "The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller," by permis- sion of the Whitaker & Ray Company. POCAHONTAS Wearied arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight; Round him press a countless horde, He is but a single knight. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 27 Hark! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds. Sinks the w^arrior, fighting still. Now they heap the funeral pyre, And the torch of death they light; , Ah! 'tis hard to die by fire! Who will shield the captive knight? Round the stake with fiendish crv Wheel and dance the savage crowd; Cold the victim's mien and proud, And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart? WTio avert the murderous blade? From the throng with sudden start See, there springs an Indian maid. Quick she stands before the knight: " Loose the chain, unbind the ring ! I am the daughter of the king. And I claim the Indian right!" Dauntlessly aside she flings Lifted axe and thirsty knife, Fondly to his heart she clings. And her bosom guards his life! In the woods of Powhattan, Still 'tis told bv Indian fires How a daughter of their sires Saved a captive Englishman. WiLLiA^i Makepeace Thackeray. 28 FIFTH YEAR LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed. And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come. In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amid the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea : And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam: And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home! There were men with hoary hair. Amid that pilgrim band; Why had they come to wither there. Away from their childhood's land? HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 29 There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine! Ay! call it holy ground. The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found. Freedom to worship God. Felicia Browne Hemans. THE CORN-SONG Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn ! Let other lands, exulting, glean The apple from the pine. The orange from its glossy green. The cluster from the vine. We better love the hardy gift Our rugged vales bestow. To cheer us when the storm shall drift Our harvest-fields with snow. 30 FIFTH YEAR Through vales of grass and meads of flowers, Our ploughs their furrows made, While on the hills the sun and showers Of changeful April played. We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain. Beneath the sun of May, And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away. All through the long, bright days of June Its leaves grew green and fair. And waved in hot midsummer's noon Its soft and yellow hair. And now with autumn's moonlit eves, Its harvest-time has come. We pluck away the frosted leaves, And bear the treasure home. There richer than the fabled gift Apollo showered of old, Fair hands the broken grain shall sift. And knead its meal of gold. Let vapid idlers loll in silk Around their costly board; Give us the bowl of samp and milk. By homespun beauty poured! Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth Sends up its smoky curls, Who will not thank the kindly earth. And bless our farmer girls! HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 31 Then shame on all the proud and vain, Whose folly laughs to scorn The blessing of our hardy grain, Our wealth of golden corn! Let earth withhold her goodly root, Let mildew blight the rye, Give to the worm the orchard's fruit. The wheat field to the fly: But let the good old crop adorn The hills our fathers trod; Still let us for his golden corn. Send up our thanks to God! John Greenleaf Whittier. THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME The Quaker of the olden time! How calm and firm and true, Unspotted by its wrong and crime, He walked the dark earth through. The lust of power, the love of gain The thousand lures of sin Around him, had no power to stain The purity within. With that deep insight which detects All great things in the small, And knows how each man's life affects The spiritual life of all. He walked b}^ faith and not by sight, Bv love and not bv law; The presence of the wrong or right He rather felt than saw. 32 FIFTH YEAR He felt that wrong with wTong partakes, That nothing stands alone, That whoso gives the motive, makes His brother's sin his own. And, pausing not for doubtful choice Of evils great or small, He listened to that inward voice Which called awav from all. O Spirit of that early day, So pure and strong and true, Be with us in the narrow way Our faithful fathers knew. Give strength the evil to forsake, The cross of Truth to bear. And love and reverent fear to make Our daily lives a prayer! John Greenleaf Whittier. SIXTH YEAR SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING BEFORE THE RAIN We knew it would rain, for all the morn, A spirit on slender ropes of mist Was lowering its golden buckets down Into the vapory amethyst Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens, Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, Dipping the jewels out of the sea, To sprinkle them over the land in showers. We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind — and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain. Thomas Bailey Aldrich. By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. THE FLAG GOES BY Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, A flash of color beneath the sky : Hats off! The flag is passing by ! 33 34 SIXTH YEAR Blue and crimson and white it shines Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off! The colors before us fly; But more than the flag is passing by. Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, Fought to make and to save the State: Weary marches and sinking ships; Cheers of victory on dying lips; Days of plenty and years of peace; March of a strong land's swift increase; Equal justice, right, and law, Statelv honor and reverend aw^e; Sign of a nation, great and strong To ward her people from foreign wrong; Pride and glory and honor, — all Live in the colors to stand or fall. Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; And loval hearts are beating high: Hats off! The flag is passing by! Henry Holcomb Bennett. By permission of the author. THE YEAR'S AT THE SPRING From '^ Pijypa Passes " The year's at the spring And dav's at the morn; Morning's at seven; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 35 The hillside's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven — All's right with the world! Robert Browning. CONCORD HYMNi SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836 By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-dav a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem. When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft w^e raise to them and thee. Ralph Waldo Emerson. * Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with Sixth Year History. 36 SIXTH YEAR THE FIRST SNOW-FALL The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. From sheds new-roofed with Carrara Came Chanticleer's muffled crow; The stiff rails softened to swan's-down, 'And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky. And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood; How the flakes were folding it gently. As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying, " Father, who makes it snow? " And I told of the good x\ll-father Who cares for us here below. Again I looked at the snow-fall And thought of the leaden sky That arched o'er our first great sorrow. When that mound was heaped so high. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 37 I remembered the gradual patience That fell from that cloud like snow, Flake by flake, healing and hiding The scar that renewed our woe. And again to the child I whispered, "The snow that husheth all, Darling, the merciful Father Alone can make it fall ! " Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her. And she, kissing back, could not know That my kiss was given to her sister, Folded close under deepening snow. James Russell Lowell. THE COMING OF SPRING There's something in the air That's new and sweet and rare — A scent of summer things, A whir as if of wings. There's something, too, that's new In the color of the blue That's in the morning sky, Before the sun is high. And though on plain and hill, 'Tis winter, winter still. There's something seems to say That winter's had its day. 38 SIXTH YEAR And all this changing tint, This whispering stir and hint Of bud and bloom and wing, Is the coming of the spring. And to-morrow or to-day « The brooks will break away From their icy, frozen sleep, And run and laugh and leap ! And the next thing, in the woods. The catkins in their hoods Of fur and silk will stand, A sturdy little band. And the tassels soft and fine Of the hazel will entwine. And the elder branches show Their buds against the snow. So, silently, but swift. Above the wintry drift, The long days gain and gain. Until, on hill and plain, — Once more, and yet once more, Returning as before, We see the bloom of birth Make young again the earth. Nora Perry SHERIDAN'S RIDE ^ Up from the south at break of dav, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, * Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with Sixth Year History. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 39 The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away. And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar, And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, ^Making the blood of the listener cold As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, With Sheridan twent}' miles away. But there is a road from Winchester town, A good broad highway leading down; And there, through the flash of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night Was seen to pass as with eagle flight; As if he knew the terrible need. He stretched away with the utmost speed; Hills rose and fell — but his heart was gay. With Sheridan fifteen miles away. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south. The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth ; Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster. Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle field calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. Under his spurning feet the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 40 SIXTH YEAR And the landscape flowed away behind, Like an ocean flying before the wind; And the steed, hke a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire; But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire. He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. What was done — what to do — A glance told him both. Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath. He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray, By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play He seemed to the whole great army to say: " I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester town to save the day!" Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Sheridan ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! for horse and man ! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky — The American soldier's Temple of Fame — There with the glorious General's name. Be it said, in letters both bold and bright: " Here is the steed that saved the day. By carrying Sheridan into the fight. From Winchester, twenty miles away!" Thomas Buchanan Read. By permission of the J. B. Lippincott Company. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 41 PUCK AND THE FAIRY From " A Midsummer Nighfs Dream )) Puck. How now, spirit I whither wander you? Fairy. Over hill, over dale. Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale. Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere. Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats, spots you see; These be rubies, fairy favors, In those freckles live their savors: I must go seek some dewdrops here. And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: Our queen and all her elves come here anon. William Shakespeare. THE QUALITY OF ]MERCY From " The Merchant of Venice " The quality of mercy is not strain 'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty. Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 42 SIXTH YEAR But mercy is above the sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. W^iLLiAM Shakespeare. MAY May shall make the world anew; Golden sun and silver dew, Money minted in the sky, Shall the earth's new garments buy. May shall make the orchards bloom; And the blossoms' fine perfume Shall set all the honey-bees Murmuring among the trees. May shall make the bud appear Like a jewel, crystal clear, 'Mid the leaves upon the limb Where the robin lilts his hvmn. May shall make the wild flowers tell Where the shining sno\\^akes fell; Just as though each sno\\^ake's heart, By some secret, magic art. Were transmuted to a flower In the sunlight and the shower. Is there such another, pray. Wonder-making month as May? Frank Dempster Sherman. By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 43 JULY When the scarlet cardinal tells Her dream to the dragon fly, And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees, And murmurs a lullaby, It is July. When the tangled cobweb pulls The cornflower's cap awTy, And the lilies tall lean over the wall To bow to the butterfly, It is July. When the heat like a mist-veil floats. And poppies flame in the rye, And the silver note in the streamlet's throat Has softened almost to a sigh. It is July. When the hours are so still that time Forgets them, and lets them lie 'Neath petals pink till the night stars wink At the sunset in the sky, It is July. When each finger-post by the way Says that Slumbertown is nigh; And the grass is tall, and the roses fall And nobody wonders why. It is July. Susan Hartley Swett. By permission of Dana Estes & Co. 44 SIXTH YEAR THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light. And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast. Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead. And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done. When the clock tolled the hour for retiring; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 45 And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowlv and sadlv we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory ! Charles Wolfe. MEMORY GEMS Have vou had a kindness shown? Pass it on. 'Twas not given for you alone — pass it on. Let it travel down the years, Let it wipe another's tears, Till in heaven the deed appears — pass it on. No one can disgrace us but ourselves. Holland. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever. Do noble things, not dream them all day long; And so make life, death and that vast forever One grand, sweet. song. Kingsley. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood. Tennyson. No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself. 46 SIXTH YEAR For truth has such a face and such a mien As to be lov'd needs only to be seen. Dryden. Cato said the best way to keep good acts in memory was to refresh them with new. Bacon. Cheerfulness costs nothing and yet it is invaluable. Diligence is the mother of good luck. Franklin. He who has a thousand friends Has not a friend to spare, And he who has an enemy Shall meet him ever^nyhere. A GOOD name is to be chosen rather than riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold. The Bible. Not he who boasts of his country, but he who does something to make his country better, is the real patriot. Oh wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursel's as others see us! i' It wad frae monie a blunder free us, And foolish notion. Burns. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING THE WAR INEVITABLE It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope; we are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly con- cern our temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp, by w^hich my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging from the past, I wish to know w^hat there has been in the conduct of the British ministrv for the last ten vears to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and this House? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir, it will prove a snare to your feet; suffer not vourselves to be betraved with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our peti- tion comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessarv to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let 47 48 SIXTH YEAR US not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, and the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask the gentlemen, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to sub- mission? . Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain anv enemv in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held it up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already ex- hausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, let us not de- ceive ourselves any longer. We have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now com- ing on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult, our supplica- tions have been disregarded, and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we wish to preserve in- violate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to aban- don the noble struggle in which we have been so long HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 49 engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! x\n appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us ! • ••••••• They tell us, sir, that we are w^eak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of libertv, and in such a countrv as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest; there is no retreat but in submission and slav- ery. Our chains are forged ; their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston; the war is inevitable, and let it come; I repeat it, sir, — let it come! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace! But there is no peace! The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our 50 SIXTH YEAR brethren are already in the field ! \Miy stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace, so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? For- bid it. Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me — give me liberty, or give me death ! Patrick Henry. PAUL REVERE'S RIDE Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, ''If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be. Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every IMiddlesex village and farm. For the country folk to be up and to arm. '^ Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. Just as the moon rose over the bay, W^here swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar. And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 51 Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the- barrack door, The sound of arms and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers. Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade, — By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent. And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonelv belfrv and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay, — A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 52 SIXTH YEAR Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height , A glimmer, and then a gleam of light I He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns ! A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. The fate of a nation w^as riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flames with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep. And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge. Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock. When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 53 He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of tlie farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock. When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. Gaze at hip with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock. When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock. And the twitter of birds among the trees. And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead. Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball. From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. Chasing the red-coats down the lane. Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road. And only pausing to fire and load. 54 SIXTH YEAR So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every INIiddlesex village and farm, — A crv of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last. In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. And the midnight message of Paul Revere. Henry Wadsw^orth Longfellow. SONG OF MARION'S MEN Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When ]\Iarion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree; We know the forest round us. As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass. Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. Woe to the English soldiery That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear; HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 55 When waking to their tents on fire They grasp their arms in vain, And they who stand to face us Are beat to earth again; And they who fly in terror deem A mighty host behind, And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind. Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil: We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves. And slumber long and sweetly. On beds of oaken leaves. Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that Marion leads — The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds. 'Tis life to guide the fiery barb Across the moonlight plain; 'Tis life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane. A moment in the British camp — A moment — and away Back to the pathless forest. Before the peep of day. 56 ■ SIXTH YEAR Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoarv hairs, Their hearts are all with Marion, For Marion are their prayers. And lovely ladies greet our band, With kindliest welcoming, With smiles like those of summer, And tears like those of spring. For them we wear these trusty arms, And lav them down no more Till we have driven the Briton, Forever, from our shore. WlLLIAI^I CULLEN BrYANT. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming — Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the fight O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there: Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes. What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream : HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 57 'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! Oh, long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation. Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto — "In God is our trust:" And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Francis Scott Key. REPLY TO HAYNE (Last yaragrayh) While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, grati- fying prospects spread out before us, for us and for our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind! When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in Heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments 58 SIXTH YEAR of a once glorious Union; on States, severed, discordant, belligerent: on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, — bearing, for its motto, no such miserable interrogatory as ''What is all this worth?" — nor those other words of delusion and follv, "Libertv first and Union afterwards," — but everyw^here, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in everv wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true Amer- ican heart, — Liberty and L^nion, now and forever, one and inseparable! Daniel Webster. SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS {Last paragraph) With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. Abrah.\]vi Lincoln. BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL RE.\DING 59 He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flar- ing lamps: His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so wdth you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel : Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat; Oh, be swift, mv soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on! In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holv, let us die to make men free. While God is marching on. Julia Ward Howe. By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 60 SIXTH YEAR CAPTAIN! ]MY CAPTAIN! O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won. The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! Oh, the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up ! — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills. For you bouquets and ribboned wTcaths — for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager facee turning; Here, Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head ! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 61 Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Walt Whitman. By permission of David McKay, publisher. BARBARA FRIETCHIE Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, Apple and peach tree fruited deep, Fair as a garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde. On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain-wall. Over the mountains winding down. Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind : the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; 62 SIXTH YEAR Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced : the old flag met his sight. "Halt!" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast, "Fire!" — out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the Avindow-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. " Shoot, if you must, this old gray head. But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: " Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 63 All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, Flag of Freedom and Union, wave Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town ! John Greenleaf Whittier. LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, Greatening and darkening as it hurried on. She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down To make a man to meet the mortal need. 64 SIXTH YEAR She took the tried clav of the common road — Clav warm vet with the ancient heat of Earth, Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. Into the shape she breathed a flame to light That tender, tragic, ever-changing face. Here was a man to hold against the world, A man to match the mountains and the sea. The color of the ground was in him, the red earth, The smack and tang of elemental things : The rectitude and patience of the cliff; The good-wall of the rain that loves all leaves; The friendly welcome of the wayside well ; The courage of the bird that dares the sea; The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; The mercy of the snow that hides all scars; The secrecy of streams that make their vv^ay Beneath the mountain to the rifted rock; The undelaying justice of the light That gives as freely to the shrinking flower As to the great oak flaring to the wind — To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn That shoulders out the skv. Sprung from the West, The strength of virgin forests braced his mind. The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. Up from log cabin to the Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — To send the keen ax to the root of wrong. Clearing a free way for the feet of God. And evermore he burned to do his deed With the fine stroke and gesture of a king: HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 65 « He built the rail-pile as he built the State, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, The conscience of him testing every stroke. To make his deed the measure of a man. So came the Captain with the thinking heart; And when the judgment thunders split the house, Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest. He held the ridgepole up and spiked agahi The rafters of the Home. He held his place — Held the long purpose like a growing tree — Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar green with boughs Goes down with a great shout upon the hills. And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. Edw^in Markham. Copyright, 1909, by Edwin Markham. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY By the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, \M:iere the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; — Under the one, the Blue; Under the other, the Gray. These in the robings of glory. Those in the gloom of defeat. All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet; — 66 SIXTH YEAR Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the Judgment day; — Under the laurel, the Blue; Under the willow, the Gray. From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe; — = Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day; — Under the roses, the Blue; Under the lilies, the Gray. So with an equal splendor The morning sun-rays fall. With a touch, impartially tender. On the blossoms blooming for all; -= Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day; — 'Broidered with gold, the Blue; Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain; — Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day; — Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Grav. Sadly, but not with upbraiding. The generous deed was done; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won ; — HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 07 Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; — Under the blossoms, the Bhie; Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red; They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead! Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day; — Love and tears for the Blue; Tears and love for the Gray. Francis Miles FincHo THE AMERICAN FLAG When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night. And set the stars of glory there: She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies. And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud And see the lightning lances driven. When strive the warriors of the storm. And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven. 68 SIXTH YEAR Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur-smoke, To ward away the battle-stroke. And bid its blendings shine afar. Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory!' Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly. The sign of hope and triumph high. When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on. Ere yet the hfe-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet. Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn; And, as his springing steps advance. Catch war and vengeance from the glance: And w^hen the cannon-mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, And gory sabres rise and fall Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall. Then shall thy meteor glances glow. And cowering foes shall fall beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas! on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. When Death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. And frighted waves rush wildly back. Before the broadside's reeling rack. Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee. HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 69 And smile to see thy splendors fly, In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home! By angel hands to valor given; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thv hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? J. R. Drake. The following additional poems for Collateral Reading in con- nection with Sixth Year History are included among the Selections for Memorizing. Fifth Year "Old Ironsides," Holmes, p. 7. " Warren's Address to the American Soldiers," Pierpont, p. 12. Sixth Year "Sheridan's Ride," Read, p. 38. "The Concord Hymn," Emerson, p. 35. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES Thomas Bailey Aldrich, an American journalist, poet and novelist, was born at Portsmouth, N. H., in 1836, and died at Boston in 1907. He became connected with the Atlaiitic Monthly and in 1883 was made its editor. Among his books of poems are "Cloth of Gold," "Flower and Thorn," "Friar Jerome's Beautiful Book." Among his best known prose works are "The Story of a Bad Bov" and "Prudence Palfrev." He is also a writer of short stories, the best of which is "Marjorie Daw." His style is charming, graceful and genuinely witty. Henry Holcomb Bennett, a magazine writer, wa? born in Chillicothe, Ohio, December 5, 1863. He was educated in the public schools of Chillicothe and at Kenyon College, Ohio. Mr. Bennett is a writer chiefly of army stories and ornithological articles, with his own illustrations. He is also a water colorist in landscape, birds and animals. Bjornstjerne Bjornson, a Norwegian journalist, poet and novelist, was born at Koikne Osterdalen, Nor- way, in 1832 and died in 1911. While a student at the University of Christiania he began writing for periodicals. He became editor of a newspaper and later of an illus- trated journal. During the years following this he was a voluminous writer of tales, poems and dramas. Among his more recent works are "A Happy Boy," "Flags are Flying," and "In God's Way." 70 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 71 Robert Browning, an English poet, was born at Camberwell, a suburb of London, in 1812; died at Venice, Italy, in 1889. He was educated at the London Liiiversity, and soon after he produced "Paracelsus," his first notable work. Li 1846 he married Elizabeth Barrett and took up his residence in Italy. The titles of some of his principal volumes of poems are "Men and Women," "The Soul's Errand," "The Ring and the Book. " Much of Brown- ing's poetry is not easily read, for his style is obscure and he deals with psychological problems. He is, how- ever, a great dramatic poet; "Pippa Passes" is the best example of this side of his art. He was also a vigorous writer of Ivrics, of which the best known are "Herve Riel" and'^"The Lost Leader." "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" is already a classic for children. William Cullen Bryant was born among the hills of western Massachusetts in 1794. The precocity of his genius for poetry is the marvel of American literary annals. When very young he began to write verses, and while a boy wished to be a poet. He wrote translations from some of the Latin poets at ten years of age. Before he was eighteen he composed "Thanatopsis," — "not only the finest poem which had been produced on this con- tinent but one of the most remarkable poems ever produced at so early an age. " Bryant was educated at Williams College and was ad- mitted to the bar in 1815, but he soon gave up the law and devoted himself to literature. In 1821 he delivered the annual poem at Harvard. This fine poem was en- titled "The Ages," and not long afterward he published it, together with "Thanatopsis," "To a Waterfowl" and a few others. Through the influence of friends which 72 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES this little volume had won for him, he went to New York and was soon appointed editor of the Evening Post, a position he held for more than fifty years. Bryant was a poet of nature; he loved and wrote of the forest, the birds and the streams. All his work is of high order. He was a perfect master of English and his verse is dignified and simple. He died in New York at the age of eighty-four, widely known and honored. Thomas Carlyle, one of the foremost of British essay- ists and historians, was born at Ecclefechan, Scotland, in 1795, and died in London in 1881. Despite his poverty he secured an education, and after teaching a few years devoted himself to literature. He made translations of German authors and wrote a splendid series of critical and biographical essays. His most important works are "Sartor Resartus," his histor}^ of the French Revo- lution and a life of Frederick the Great. His literary style is forceful but his books appeal chiefly to scholars. Joseph Rodman Drake was born in New York in 1795 and died there in 1820. He was educated at Co- lumbia College, and studied medicine, but soon turned to literature as his life work. He was closely associated with his distinguished friend, Fitz-Greene Halleck, socially and in literary pursuits. The last four lines of "The American Flag" are from Halleck's pen. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American philosopher and poet, was born in Boston, May 25, 1803, and died at Concord, Mass., in 1882. He was descended from a long line of ministers and was destined by his father to follow the same profession. Emerson entered Harvard College at thirteen and after graduation taught for several years. In 1827 he became pastor of a Unitarian church SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 73 in Boston where he preached for four years. He then resigned his charge and devoted the rest of his hfe to study and hterarv work. With Hawthorne, Thoreau and others he belonged to the so-called " Concord School " of writers which has contributed largely to the literature of New England. While Emerson wrote poetry of a high order he is best known as an essayist and orator. Francis Miles Finch, a distinguished lawyer and poet, was born at Ithaca, N. Y., in 1827 and died in 1907. He was a graduate from Yale University and entered the legal profession, becoming a judge of the Supreme Court of the State of New York. His best known poem entitled "The Blue and the Gray" is a beautiful tribute to the soldiers who fell in the Civil War. Felicia Browne Hemans was born in Liverpool, England, in 1793 and died in Dublin, Ireland, in 1835. She was the wife of Captain Hemans of the British Army. At the time of her death she was probably the most popular woman poet of the day. Many of her songs, including ''The Landing of the Pilgrims," have been set to music and are still well known. Patrick Henry, an American orator and patriot, was born at Studley, Va., in 1736 and died at Red Hill, Va., in 1799. He was a lawyer by profession and was twice elected governor of Virginia. He was a leader of the political agitation in the colonies preceding the American Revolution and opposed with all the power of his elo- quence the unjust measures passed by Parliament which affected the Colonies. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one of the most original as well as one of the wittiest of American authors, was 74 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809, and died in 1894. While at Harvard College, where he received his education, he began to write both prose and poetry, contributing largely to the college paper. After he had finished his college course he began the study of law but soon turned from this to medicine, going to Europe for study and receiving his degree in 1836. He then became professor of anatomy in Harvard Medical College, re- maining in this position for many years. His first vol- ume of poems was published in 1836 and contained "The Chambered Nautilus," ''Old Ironsides" and the "Won- derful One-Hoss Shav." These three selections alone serve to give a clear conception of the variety of his style. Many of his poems are full of humor and some of them present a rare combination of humor and pathos. In 1857 he contributed to the Atlantic Monthly a series of essavs entitled "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. " This was followed by other volumes of essays of a similar nature and commonlv known as the " Breakfast Table Series." For genuine humor, wit and literary finish these are unequalled in English literature. After their publication his highest fame was as a writer of prose. He wrote novels, of which the best known is "Elsie Vernier," and also ^vTote and lectured on subjects con- nected with the profession of medicine. Dr. Holmes was one of the renowned group of New England writers which included Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Hawthorne and Thoreau. Julia Ward Howe, an American poet and philan- thropist, was born in New York City in 1819 and died in 1910. She was an untiring worker with both tongue and pen, taking a prominent part in the so-called "woman's rights" movement. In 1861 she wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," while visiting the SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZIXG 75 camp near Washington. Sung to the tune of "John Brown" it quickly became popular and remained so throughout the Civil War. Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, an American novelist and poet, was born at Amherst, Mass., in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her verse is characterized by sympathy with all human joy and sorrow and deep feeling for the beauty and truth embodied in nature. Her best prose works are "A Century of Dishonor" and a fine romance of early Span- ish and Indian life in California entitled "Ramona," in which the rights of the Indians, towards whom she was always compassionate, are earnestly championed. She sometimes ^wrote under the pseudonym of ''Saxe Holme." Francis Scott Key, the author of the popular na- tional song "The Star-Spangled Banner," was born in Maryland in 1779 and died in 1843. He wrote a number of other poems, but it is chiefly upon this one that his fame rests. Abraham Lincoln, the l(3th President of the United States, was born in Hardin County, Ivy., Feb. 12, 1809, and died at Washington, April 15, 1865. His boyhood was passed in poverty and amid hardship and he had no advantages for an education. In 1832 the Black Hawk War broke out, and Lincoln, then a young man of twenty-three, led a company of volunteers against the Indians. Two years later he was elected to the Illinois legislature. With no one to direct him in his study he obtained a meagre education through a careful perusal of the few books that came into his pos- session. It is said that after he had become prominent in public life and had served a term in Congress, feeling 76 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES the need of a better education, he took up the study of geometry, history, Hterature and German. He kept up this study during his leisure hours outside of his pro- fession, which was the law, until he became absorbed in the anti-slavery struggle. He was unsuccessful as can- didate for United States Senator from Illinois, but, in 1860, was elected President and was inaugurated ]\Iarch 4, 1861. When he entered upon the duties of this office he was comparatively unknown to a large section of the countrv and his abilitv was mistrusted bv manv. It was a period of \^iolent unrest, and the great Civil War which followed tested and tried him as no other Presi- dent of the United States has been tested and tried. It was largely due to his patience, sagacity and judgment that the Union was finallv saved. Lincoln has not generally been classed as a man of letters, but his "Inaugural Addresses," "The Emanci- pation Proclamation," and the "Gettysburg Speech" are among the classics of American literature. Henry W.adsworth Longfellow, an American poet, was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cam- bridge, ]\Iass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bow- doin College in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the following year received the appoint- ment of Professor of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater. He studied three years in Europe before taking up his duties. In 1835, having received an appointment in Harvard College, he moved to Cambridge and made his home there during the remainder of his life. He is, perhaps, the most popular of the American poets, for the truth and simplicity of his sentiments and the graceful manner in which they are expressed, appeal to humanity. In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," "Hiawatha" and "The Courtship of Miles Standish," he has done SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 77 much to immortalize in poetry incidents in American history. Among his well-known shorter poems are "The Children's Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Village Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." J.oiES Russell Lowell was one of America's most distinguished men of letters — poet, essayist, critic. He was born at Cambridge, Mass., Feb. 22, 1S19, and spent his life there, with the exception of years spent in travel and study in Europe and the period of his residence abroad as American minister to Spain and England. His first literary work was poetry. Some of his finest poems are "The Harvard Commemoration Ode," and that written under the Old Elm at Cambridge. His series of dialect poems, the "Biglow Papers," rank among the best of political satires. In direct contrast to these stands his "Vision of Sir Launfal," which is unsur- passed in exquisite workmanship and in lofty sentiment. Lowell's work shows power of thought and emotion. His themes are love, patriotism, religion, hope and truth. Li his prose '^Titings Lowell shows keen wit and humor, as well as power and strength, and as a critic he holds a foremost place. He was for many years connected with Harvard Lniversitv; at the same time he edited the Atlantic Monthly and afterwards the North American Review. Few men have been more thoroughly and proudly American than he, and through his diplomatic life abroad as well as through his wTitings he did much to make American letters and culture respected. He died August 1, 1891, after a life of more than three- score and ten years, recognized ever^-^s'here as a man of broad culture and of noble character. Edwin ]MarivH-\:m, poet, writer and lecturer, was born at Oregon City, Ore., April 23, 1852. As a boy he 7S BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES worked at herding cattle and sheep. His eiincation was received at the San Jose Normal School and the Santa Rosa College. He was for a number of years a superin- tendent of schools in California, but has recenth- been living in the East, where he is a valueii contributor to the leading magazines. His best known poem, "The Man with the Hoe," is foundeii upon ^Millet's great painting *'The An£:elus." CixcixxATUS Heixe ]\Iiller, who ^^Tote under the name of Joaquin Miller, was born in Wabash District, Ind., in 1S41. He spent his early years in the mining camps of California and liveii for some years among the Indians of Oregon. His first volume of poems was publisheii in England and attracted much attention. He afterwards returned to this coimtrv and lived in Washinjjton and California. Some of his books of verse are "Songs of the Sierras," "Songs of the Sunlands," Sonsrs of Italv " and " Collected Poems." a o JoHX Howard Payxe, an American dramatist and actor, was born in Xew York in 1792; died at Timis, Africa, in 1S52. He liveii in Europe for nineteen years, devoting his time to the stage and to writing dramas. The song. "Home, Sweet Home," for which he is chiefly famous, occurs in the opera "Clari, the ^Nlaid of ^Nlilan." This song made the opera successful and its publishers rich, but Payne received no pecuniary benefit. In ISol he was appointeii Uniteii States Consul at Tunis, where he died. Thirtv vears after his death his remains were brought to Washington for reinterment. XoRA Perry, an American poet, was born at Dudley, ^lass., in 1S41; died in the same place in 1890. She began wTiting at the early age of eighteen and was a SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 79 frequent contributor to St. Nicholas and other maga- zines. John Pierpont, an American clergyman and poet, was born at Litchfield, Conn., in 1785; died at Medford, Mass., in 1866. He was graduated from Yale in 1804. In 1816 he published "The Airs of Palestine." Most of his poems were written for special occasions. Thomas Buchanan Read was born in 1822 at Chester, Pa., and died in 1872. He passed much of his time abroad and became a landscape painter of some merit. He wrote, besides many larger works, some really notable short poems. His " Sheridan's Ride" is among the most popular of our short poems and his lyrics are of a high order. William Sil\kespeare, the greatest of English drama- tists, was born at Stratford-on-Avon in 1564; died there in 1()16. When twenty-three yeatTS of age Shakespeare left Stratford for London and soon became connected with the ^Metropolitan theatre as playwright. Shake- speare's dramas number thirty-seven; only about a dozen were printed during his lifetime. The entire plays were published in 1623, seven years after his death. Although his dramas overshadow his other writings, Shakespeare holds a high place among the great English poets as a writer of sonnets and other poems. All of his work is of high order, but "The Merchant of Venice," "Julius Csesar," "As you Like It" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream" are perhaps best fitted for young people's reading. Frank Dempster Sherman, an American poet, was born at Peekskill, N. Y., in 1860. He was educated at 80 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES Columbia College and is now connected with that insti- tution. His verses are pleasing and graceful. Susan Hartley Swett was born in Brewer, INIaine, in 1867. She has published many poems in "Harper's," "St. Nicholas," "The Cosmopolitan" and "The Youth's Companion," and is the author of "Field Clover and Beach Grass," a collection of stories published in 1898. Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Li 1850 he was appointed Poet Laureate of England through Prince Albert's admiration for "Li INIemoriam." He was buried near Chaucer, in the Poets' Corner of West- minster Abbey. Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of the King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "I.ocks- ley Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of poetic genius and all of them are finished and artistic. This is especiall}^ true of his lyrics, such as the "Bugle Song" and the "Cradle Song." WiLLL\M Makepeace Thackeray, a celebrated Eng- lish novelist, was born in Calcutta, India, July 18, 1811, and died in London, Dec. 24, 1863. He was sent to England to be educated and spent some years in Trinity College, Cambridge, but never graduated. He studied art in Rome and Paris and read law for a time. After the loss of his modest fortune he began to dev^ote him- self to literature. He gained a reputation as a satirist, essayist and writer of verse, and in all of his writings he made clever hits at the fashionable follies and foibles of the time. For many years he wrote for Punch and in SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 81 1847 published "Vanity Fair," the first of his five great novels. This novel immediately brought him fame and placed him in the first rank as a novelist. He regarded ''Henry Esmond" as his best work, but many people prefer "The Xewcomes. " "The Virginians" deals with colonial life in America and gives an excellent picture of Washington and Wolfe. Daniel Webster, the greatest of American orators, was born at Salisbury, X. H., Jan. 18, 1782, and died at ]Marshfield, ]\Iass., Oct. 24, 1852. He was educated at Dartmouth College, was principal of a X"ew England academv and studied law. After his admission to the bar he moved to Boston where he soon became a leader in his profession. He was naturally attracted to a public life and for many years represented the State of Massachusetts in the United States Senate. He was a man of striking personal appearance and a profound student of constitutional government. His orations in defense of the Union are among the finest in history. Walt Whit:\ian, an American poet, was born at West Hills, Long Island, May 31, 1819; died at Camden, N. J., March 2(3, 1892. He was educated in the public schools of Brooklyn and Xew York. " Leaves of Grass, " published in 1855, was his first noteworthy work. He wrote poems for periodicals, some of which have been collected into volumes. iVmong these are " Drum Taps, " "Specimen Days and Collect" and "Good-bye, My Fancy." His most beautiful poem is "O Captain! My Captain I" written after the assassination of Lincoln. John Greenleaf Whittier was born in the town of Haverhill, Mass., on Dec. 17, 1807, and died in 1892. He is known as the "Quaker poet" and also as the "poet 82 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES of freedom. " Poverty stood in the way of an education, but by wide and well-chosen reading he complemented his rather meagre schooling. That he was never robust in health was probably due to the hard work and exposure of his boyhood on his father's farm, but his spirit was strong. He allied himself with the cause of freedom and wrote many anti-slavery poems. "Voices of Freedom" ap- peared in 1849. Another collection, "House Ballads," includes "Maud Muller," "Barefoot Boy," "Angels of Buena Vista," "Skipper Ireson's Ride." "Barbara Frietchie" appeared in the collection entitled "In War Time" and is one of his best known poems. Whittier's greatest fame is as a writer of stories in verse, and as a writer of lyrics, some of which are among the most beautiful in our language. "Snow Bound" is a vivid portrayal of New England life. Charles Wolfe, an English clergyman and poet, was born at Dublin, Ireland, in 1791, and died at Cork, Ire- land, in 1823. His best known poem is "The Burial of Sir John Moore." INDEX BY TITLES PAGE American Flag, The . . . Drake 67 Barbara Frietchie .... Whittier 61 Battle Hymn of the Re- public Howe 58 Before the Rain Aldrich .......... 33 Blue and the Gray, The . Finch 65 Blue Jay, The Swett . . 14 Brook, The Tennyson 15 Builders, The Longfellow 10 Burial of Sir John Moore, The Wolfe 44 Columbus Miller 25 Coming of Spring, The . . Perry 37 Concord Hymn Emerson 35 Corn-Song, The Whittier 29 First Snow-Fall, The . . Lowell 36 Flag Goes By, The . . . Bennett 33 Home, Sweet Home .... PajTie 11 July Swett 43 Landing of the Pilgrims . Hemans 28 Lincoln, The Man of the People Markham 63 Lullaby for Titania . . . Shakespeare 13 ]\L\Y Sherman ^42 O Captain! IMy Captain! . Whitman 60 October's Bright Blue Weather Jackson . . ; 8 Old Ironsides Holmes . 7 83 84 INDEX BY TITLES PAGE Paul Revere's Ride . . . Longfellow . 50 Pocahontas Thackeray 26 Puck and the Fairy . . . Shakespeare . 41 Quaker of the Olden Time, The Whittier 31 Quality of Mercy, The . Shakespeare 41 Reply to Hayne . . . . . Webster 57 Robert of Lincoln .... Bryant 3 Second Inaugural Address Lmcoln 58 Sheridan's Ride Read .... 38 Ship of State, The .... Longfellow . 9 Skeleton in Armor, The . Longfellow ........ 20 Song of Marion's Men . . Bryant 54 Star-Sp ANGLED Banner, The Key 56 To-day Carlisle .......... 6 Tree, The Bjornson ... ..... 5 War Inevitable, The . . . Henry 47 Warren's Address to the American Soldiers . . . Pierpont 12 Year's at the Spring, The Browning 34 INDEX BY AUTHORS PAGE Aldrich, Thomas Bailey . Before the Rain 33 Bennett, Henry Holcomb Flag Goes By, The .... 33 Bjornson, Bjornstjerne . Tree, The 5 Browning, Robert .... Year's at the Spring, The . 34 Bryant, William Cullen . Robert of Lincoln 3 Song of Marion's Men ... 54 Carlyle, Thomas To-day 6 Drake, Joseph Rodman . . American Flag, The .... 67 Emerson, Ralph Waldo . Concord Hymn, The .... 35 Finch, Francis Miles . . Blue and the Gray, The ... 65 Hemans, Felicia Browne . Landing of the Pilgrims . . 28 Henry, Patrick War Inevitable, The .... 47 Holmes, Oliver Wendell . Old Ironsides 7 Howe, Julia Ward .... Battle Hymn of the Republic 58 Jackson, Helen Hunt . . October's Bright Blue Weather 8 Key, Francis Scott . . . Star-Spangled Banner, The . 56 Lincoln, Abraham .... Second Inaugural Address . 58 Longfellow, Henry Wads- worth Builders, The 10 Paul Revere's Ride .... 50 Ship of State, The 9 Skeleton in Armor, The . . 20 Lowell, James Russell . . First Snow-Fall, The .... 36 85 86 INDEX BY AUTHORS PAGE Markham, Edwin Lincoln, The Man of the People 63 Miller, Cincinnatus Heine, "Joaquin" Columbus 25 Payne, John Howard . . . Home, Sweet Home .... 11 Perry, Nora Coming of Spring, The ... 37 PiERPONT, John Warren's Address to the American Soldiers .... 12 Read, Thomas Buchanan . Sheridan's Ride 38 Shakespeare, William . , Lullaby for Titania .... 13 Puck and the Fairy .... 41 Quality of Mercy, The ... 41 Sherman, Frank Dempster May 42 SwETT, Susan H.^rtley . . Blue Jay, The , 14 July 43 Tennyson, Alfred, Lord . Brook, The 15 Thackeray. Williajvi Make- peace Pocahontas 26 Webster, Daniel Reply to Hayne 57 Whitman, Walt O Captain! My Captain! . . 60 Whittier, John Greenleaf Barbara Frietchie 61 Corn-Song, The 29 Quaker of the Olden Time, The 31 Wolfe, Charles Burial of Sir John Moore . . 43 CONTENTS SEVENTH YEAR p^gb Selections for Memorizing 3 For Appreciative Reading 21 Memory Gems 48 History Poems for Collateral Reading ... 51 EIGHTH YEAR Selections for Memorizing 61 For Appreciative Reading 74 Memory Gems 129 History Poems for Collateral Reading .... 132 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 133 INDEX BY TITLES 147 INDEX BY AUTHORS 149 IX i BOOK THREE i SEVENTH YEAR SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING A SOXG OF LO^^E Say, what is the spell, when her fledglings are cheeping, That lures the bird home to her nest? Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping. To cuddle and croon it to rest? What the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms, Till it cooes with the voice of the dove? 'Tis a secret, and so let us whisper it low — And the name of the secret is Love. For I think it is Love, For I feel it is Love, For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! Say, whence is the voice that when anger is burning. Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease? That stirs the vexed soul with an aching — a yearning For the brotherly hand-grip of peace? WTience the music that fills all our being — that thrills Around us, beneath, and above? 'Tis a secret : none knows how it comes, or it goes — But the name of the secret is Love. For I think it is Love, For I feel it is Love, For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! 3 4 SEVENTH YEAR Say, whose is the skill that paints valley and hill, Like a picture so fair to the sight? That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and shadow, Till the little lambs leap with delight? 'Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold, Though 'tis sung by the angels above, In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear — And the name of the secret is Love. For I think it is Love, For I feel it is Love, For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! Lewis Carroll. By permission of the Macmillan Company, THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign. Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings. And coral reefs lie bare. Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl! And every chambered cell. Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, Before thee lies revealed, — Its irised ceiUng rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 5 Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea. Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings. Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : — Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last. Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. Till thou at length art free. Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! Oliver Wendell Holmes. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNERS Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam- ing — Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly stream- ing? ^ Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with Eighth Year History. 6 SEVENTH YEAR And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there: Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep. As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glorv reflected now shines on the stream: ^Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! Oh, long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a countrv should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge should save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and war's desolation. Blest w^ith victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust:" And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Francis Scott Key. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING SCYTHE SONG iVIowERS, weary and brown, and blithe, What is the word methinks ye know, Endless over-word that the Scvthe Sings to the blades of the grass below? Scythes that swing in the grass and clover. Something, still, they say as they pass; What is the word that, over and over. Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass? Hush, ah hisJi, the Scythes are saying, Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep; Hush, they say to the grasses swaying, Hush, they sing to the clover deep ! Hush — 'tis the lullaby Time is singing — Hush, and heed not, for all things j^ass, Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging Over the clover, over the grass! Andrew Lang. Reprinted, by permission of Longmans, Green & Co., from " Grass of Parnassus," by Andrew Lang. THE ARROW AND THE SONG I SHOT an arrow into the air. It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air. It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong That it can follow the flight of song? 8 SEVENTH YEAR Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. SPRING From "' Kavanagh." Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the spring ! — the great annual miracle of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, re- peated on myriads and myriads of branches ! — the gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees, — gentle, and yet irrepressible, — which no force can stay, no vio- lence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power. If spring came but once a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence^ what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change! But now the silent succession suggests nothing but necessity. To most men, only the cessation of the mir- acle would be miraculous, and the perpetual exercise of God's power seems less wonderful than its withdrawal would be. We are like children who are astonished and delighted only by the second-hand of the clock, not by the hour-hand. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. SUMMER From " Kavanagh.^' In the fields and woods, meanwhile, there were other signs and signals of the summer. The darkening foliage; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 9 the embrowning grain; the golden dragon-fly haunting the blackberry-bushes; the cawing crows, that looked down from the mountain on the cornfield, and waited day after day for the scarecrow to finish his work and depart; and the smoke of far-off burning woods, that pervaded the air and hung in purple haze about the sum- mits of the mountains, — these were the vaunt-couriers and attendants of the hot August. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. AUTUMN From " Kavanagh.'^ The brown autumn came. Out of doors, it brought to the fields the prodigality of the golden harvest, — to the forest, revelations of light, — and to the sky, the sharp air, the morning mist, the red clouds at evening. Within doors, the sense of seclusion, the stillness of closed and curtained windows, musings by the fireside, books, friends' conversation, and the long, meditative evenings. To the farmer, it brought surcease of toil, — to the scholar that sweet delirium of the brain which changes toil to pleasure. It brought the wild duck back to the reedy marshes of the south ; it brought the wild song back to the fervid brain of the poet. Without, the village street was paved with gold; the river ran red with the reflection of the leaves. Within, the faces of friends brightened the gloomy walls; the returning footsteps of the long-absent gladdened the household; and all the sweet amenities of social life again resumed their inter- rupted reign. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 10 SEVENTH YEAR WINTER From " Kavanagh. }} The first snow came. How beautiful it was, falling so silently, all day long, all night long, on the mountains, on the meadows, on the roofs of the living, on the graves of the dead! All white save the river, that marked its course by a winding black line across the landscape; and the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now re- vealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacy of their branches! What silence, too, came w^ith the snow, and what se- clusion! Every sound was muffled, every noise changed to something soft and musical. No more trampling of hoofs, — no more rattling wheels! Only the chiming sleighbells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of children. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE FINDING OF THE LYRE There lay upon the ocean's shore What once a tortoise served to cover; A year and more, with rush and roar, The surf had rolled it over, Had played with it, and flung it by, As wind and weather might decide it. Then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry Cheap burial might provide it. It rested there to bleach or tan, The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it; With manv a ban the fisherman Had stumbled o'er and spurned it; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 11 And there the fisher-girl would stay, Conjecturing with her brother How in their play the poor estray Might serve some use or other. So there it lay, through wet and dry As empty as the last new sonnet. Till by and by came ^Mercury, And, having mused upon it, "Why, here," cried he, "the thing of things In shape, material, and dimension! Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, A wonderful invention!" So said, so done; the chords he strained. And, as his fingers o'er them hovered. The shell disdained a soul had gained. The lyre had been discovered. O empty world that round us lies. Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, Brought we but eyes like Mercury's, In thee what songs should waken! James Russell Lowell. COLUMBUS 1 Behind him lav the grav Azores, Behind the Gates of Hercules; Before him not the ghost of shores. Before him only shoreless seas. 1 This poem is also designated for Collateral Reading in con- nection with Seventh Year History. The London Athenceum thus characterized this poem: "In point of power, workmanship and feeling, among all the poems written by Americans, we are inclined to give first place to the ' Port of Ships ' (or ' Columbus ') by Joaquin Miller." 12 SEVENTH YEAR The good mate said : " Now must we pray, For lo ! the very stars are gone. Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" "Why say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" a ii "My men grow mutinous day by day; My men grow ghastly wan and weak." The stout mate thought of home; a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" Why you shall say, at Vjreak of day: 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'" They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, Until at last the blanched mate said: "Why, now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead. These very winds forget their way, For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say" — He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: " This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. He curls his lips, he lies in wait, With lifted teeth, as if to bite! Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone?" The words leapt as a leaping sword: "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — Alight! Alight! Alight! Alight! SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 13 It grew — a starlit flag unfurled ! It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world ! he gave that world Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" Joaquin Miller. From " The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller," by permis- sion of the Whitaker & Ray Company. THE NAjVIE of OLD GLORY " Old Glory! say, who By the ships and the crew, And the long, blended ranks of the Gray and the Blue — Who gave you, old Glory, the name that you bear With such pride everywhere, As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air, And leap out full length, as we're wanting you to? — Who gave you that name, with the ring of the same, And the honor and fame so becoming to you? Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red. With your stars at their glittering best overhead — By day or by night Their delightfulest light Laughing down from their little square heaven of blue I Who gave you the name of Old Glory — say, who — Who gave you the name of Old Glory? " The old banner lifted and faltering then In vague lisps and whispers fell silent again. " Old Glory: the story we're wanting to hear Is what the plain facts of your christening were, — For your name — just to hear it, Repeat it, and cheer it's a tang to the spirit As salt as a tear; — 14 SEVENTH YEAR And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by, There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the eye, And an aching to Hve for you always — or die. If, dying, we still keep you waving on high. And so, by our love For you, floating above. And the scars of all wars and the sorrows thereof, Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why Are w^e thrilled at the name of Old Glory? '' Then the old banner leaped like a sail in the blast And fluttered an audible answer at last. And it spake with a shake of the voice, and it said: " By the driven snow-white and the living blood-red Of my bars and their heaven of stars overhead — By the symbol conjoined of them all, skyward cast, As I float from the steeple or flap at the mast. Or drop o'er the sod where the long grasses nod, — My name is as old as the Glory of God. So I came by the name of Old Glory." James Whitcomb Riley. From " Home-Folks;" copyright, 1900; by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. A SONG OF CLOVER I WONDER what the Clover thinks, — Intimate friend of Bob-o '-links. Lover of Daisies slim and white, Waltzer with Buttercups at night; Keeper of Lm for traveling Bees, Serving to them wine-dregs and lees, Left by the Royal Humming Birds, Who sip and pay with fine-spun words; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 15 Fellow with all the lowliest, Peer of the gayest and the best; Comrade of winds, beloved of sun. Kissed by the Dew-drops, one by one; Prophet of Good-Luck mystery By sign of four which few may see; Symbol of Nature's magic zone. One out of three, and three in one; Emblem of comfort in the speech Which poor men's babies early reach; Sweet by the roadsides, sweet by rills, Sweet in the meadows, sweet on hills. Sweet in its white, sweet in its red, — Oh, half its sweetness cannot be said; — Sweet in its every living breath, Sweetest, perhaps, at last, in death ! Oh! who knows what the Clover thinks? No one! unless the Bob-o'-links! '' S.\XE Holm." FAREWELL! A LONG PARE\^^LL TO ALL :\IY GREATNESS! From ''Henry VIIL" Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms. And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root. And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. This many summers in a sea of glory, 16 SEVENTH YEAR But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world I hate ye! I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours I There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. William Shakespeare. JOG ON, JOG ON From ''The Winter's Tale.'' Jog on, jog on the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a. Your merry heart goes all the day. Your sad tires in a mile-a. Your paltry money-bags of gold — What heed have we to stare for. When little or nothing soon is told. And we have less to care for. Then cast away care, let worry cease, A fig for melancholy; Let's laugh and sing, or, if you please. We'll frolic with sweet Dolly. William Shakespeare. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 17 A VISIT FROM THE SEA Far from the loud sea beaches Where he goes fishing and crying, Here in the inland garden Why is the sea-gull flying? Here are no fish to dive for; Here is the corn and lea; Here are the green trees rustling. Hie away home to sea! Fresh is the river water And quiet among the rushes; This is no home for the sea-gull, But for the rooks and thrushes. Pity the bird that has wandered ! Pity the sailor ashore! Hurry him home to the ocean, Let him come here no more! High on the sea-cliff ledges The white gulls are trooping and crying; Here among rooks and roses. Why is the sea-gull flying? Robert Louis Steyenson. SIR GALAHAD My good blade carves the casques of men. My tough lance thrustetb sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. 18 SEVENTH YEAR The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel, The sphnter's spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel: They reel, they roll in clanging lists. And when the tide of combat stands. Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall ! For them I battle till the end. To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above. My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will. When down the stormy crescent goes, A light before me swims. Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns; Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there; The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning fair. Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth. The silver vessels sparkle clean. The shrill bell rings, the censer swings. And solemn chants resound between. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 19 Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres, I find a magic bark; I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awiul light! Three angels bear the holy Grail ! With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! My spirit beats her mortal bars. As down dark tides the glory slides. And star-like mingles with the stars. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn. The streets are dumb with snow. The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads. And gilds the driving hail. I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. A maiden Knight — to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here. I muse on joy that will not cease. Pure spaces cloth'd in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace. Whose odors haunt me in my dreams; 20 SEVENTH YEAR And stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armor that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. The clouds are broken in the skv. And thro' the mountain-walls A rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear: " O just and faithful knight of God ! Ride on! the prize is near." So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail. Alfred, Lord Tennyson. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN The town of Hamelin was infested with rats in the year 1284. The people had no peace at home or abroad. Finally there appeared a strange .looking man, tall and thin, dressed in a parti-colored suit. He said he was a rat-catcher and offered to free the place of rats for a certain sum of money. His terms were accepted; and he played on his pipe a shrill tune that brought all the rats out of the town, and down to the river where they were drowned. When they were gone the people refused to keep their part of the bargain by paying the Piper. Then he took his pipe and played such a sweet tune that all the children in the to^\Ti ran to him. He led them, with his weird piping, up to a hill beyond the town : the hill opened and let them all in, and their parents never saw them again. One child, a little lame boy, was left behind and he told of the wonderful pictures that came to the children as the Piper played for them. The street through which the Piper led the children, who were deaf to the cries and commands of their distracted parents, is called the Bungen-Strasse because no drum (Bunge) may be played in it. Not long ago two moss-grown crosses marked the spot where the children are supposed to have vanished. Browning put this legend into verse to amuse a sick child, Willy Macready, the son of the actor by that name. 1 Hamelin Town's in Brunswick/ Bv famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity. ^ Brunswick. A division of Prussia or Germany. 21 22 SEVENTH YEAR 2 They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats, At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: "'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; ^ And as for our Corporation — shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine ^ For dolts that can't or won't determine What's best to rid us of our vermin! You hope, because you're old and obese. To find in the furry civic robes ease? Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking To find the remedy we're lacking, • Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation. ^ Rats. The whole trouble is explosively and emphatically voiced in a single strong, brief word. 2 Notice the alliteration between consonants in killed, cats, bit, babies, etc. This device, together with the vowel melody, makes the stanza particularly musical. 3 Noddy. A simpleton. 4 Ermine. A costly white fur that has long been associated with kings and high officers. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 23 An hour they sate in council; At length the Mayor broke silence: "For a guilder ^ I'd my ermine gown sell, I wish I were a mile hence! It's easy to bid one rack one's brain — I'm sure my poor head aches again, I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber-door but a gentle tap? "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" (\Yith the Corporation as he sat, Looking little, though wondrous fat; Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister Than a too-long-opened oyster. Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" "Come in!" the ^Nlayor cried, looking bigger: And in did come the strangest figure ! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half of yellow and half of red. And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, ^ And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, 1 Guilder. A Dutch coin worth forty or fifty cents. 24 SEVENTH YEAR But lips where smiles went out and in; There was no guessing his kith and kin: And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire. Quoth one: "It's as my great-grandsire, Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, Had walked this way from his painted tombstone !'' 6 He advanced to the council-table: And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able, By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep or swim or fly or run. After me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm On creatures that do people harm. The mole and toad and newt and viper; And people call me the Pied ^ Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck A scarf of red and yellow stripe, To match with his coat of the self-same cheque; And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying As if impatient to be playing Upon this pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.) "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham,^ Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; 1 eased in Asia the Nizam ^ Pied. Of different colors, motley. Compare with pichald, spotted like a pie. 2 Cham. The ruler of Tartary. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 25 Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats : ^ And as for what vour brain bewilders, If I can rid your town of rats, Will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One? fifty thousand!" — was the exclamation Of the astonished ]\Iayor and Corporation. 72 Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while; Then like a musical adept. To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, You heard as if an armv muttered ; And the muttering grew into a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins. Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advancing. And step for step they followed dancing, 1 Vanipire-bats. Blood-sucking bats of large size.- 2 Notice the musical verse again. 26 SEVENTH YEAR Until they came to the river Weser, Wherein all plunged and perished ! — Save one who, stout as Julius Csesar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary : Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe. And putting apples, wondrous ripe. Into a cider-press's gripe: And a moving away of pickle-tub boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter casks: And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! ^ So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon. Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,^ All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me. Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' — I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 8 You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rock'd the steeple. "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, Poke out the nests and block up the holes! 1 Drysaltery. A storehouse of dry salted meats, etc. 2 Nuncheon. Noon or midday meal. 3 Sugar-puncheon. A large sugar cask. 2 FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 27 Consult with carpenters and builders, And leave in our town not even a trace Of the rats!" — when suddenly up the face Of the Piper perked in the market place, With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!" 9 A thousand guilders! The INIayor looked blue; So did the Corporation too. For council dinners made rare havoc With Claret, ^Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; ^ And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. - To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! "Beside," quoth the ^Eayor, with a knowing wink, "Our business was done at the river's brink; We saw with our eyes the vermin sink. And what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink From the duty of giving you something for drink, And a matter of money to put in your poke; But as for guilders, what we spoke Of them, as you ^'ery well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty.'^ 10 The Piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait, beside! Fve promised to visit by dinner time Bagdat,^ and accept the prime 1 Claret, IMoselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock. Varieties of wines. 2 Rhenish. Rhine wines, as enumerated above. 3 Bagdat. A province of Asiatic Turkey. 28 SEVENTH YEAR Of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, For having left, in the Caliph's ^ kitchen. Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: With him I proved no bargain-driver, With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion May find me pipe after another fashion." 11 "How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook Being worse treated than a Cook? Insulted bv a lazv ribald ^ With idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, Blow your pipe there till you burst!" 12 3 Once more he stept into the street, And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; And ere he blew three notes (such sweet Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling; Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering. Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls. With rosv cheeks and flaxen curls, 1 Caliph. The title of the Moslem ruler. 2 Ribald. A low, disreputable person. 3 Again the verse changes to the more musical meter. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 29 And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 13 The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood, Unable to move a step, or cry To the children merrily skipping by, — Could only follow w^ith the eye That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack. And the wretched Council's bosoms beat. As the Piper turned from the High Street To where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daughters! However, he turned from south to west, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, And after him the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast. "He never can cross the mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop, And we shall see our children stop!" When lo, as they reached the mountain-side, A wondrous portal opened wide. As if a cavern was suddenlv hollowed ; And the Piper advanced, and the children followed, And when all were in to the very last. The door in the mountain-side shut fast. Did I say all? No! one was lame. And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say, — "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! 30 SEVENTH YEAR I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me. For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand, Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue. And everything was strange and new; The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here. And their dogs outran our fallow deer. And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles' wings: And just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured. The music stopped, and I stood still. And found myself outside the hill, Ivcft alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!'* 14 Alas, alas ! for Hamelin ! — There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that Heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye ^ takes a camel in! The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south. To offer the Piper, by word of mouth. Wherever it was men's lot to find him. Silver and gold to his heart's content. If he'd only return the way he went. And bring the children behind him. 1 Needle's eye. See Matthew xix: 24. There was in Jerusalem a small city gate, called by this name, for foot passengers only. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 31 But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor, And Piper and dancers were gone forever, They made a decree that lawyers never Should think their records dated duly If, after the day of the month and year. These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here On the Twenty-second of July, Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:" And the better in memorv to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it the Pied Piper's Street — Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labor. Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column. And on the great church-window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away. And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say That in Transvlvania there's a tribe Of alien people who ascribe The outlandish wavs and dress On which their neighbors lay such stress. To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned ^ Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land. But how or whv, thev don't understand. ' Trepanned. Coaxed, enticed. 32 SEVENTH YEAR 15 So, Willy/ let me and you be wipers Of scores out with all men — especially pipers ! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! Robert Browning. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Description of the first appearance of the Piper. Description of the scene where the rats are following the Piper. Description of the scene where the Piper demands his pay. Description of the scene where the children follow the Piper. Description of contrasting pictures. (See stanzas 4-5, 7, 13.) Traits of character shown by the Mayor, as representative of the Council. Characterization of the Piper. Changes in the meter to correspond with changes in sentiment or subject matter. It is suggested that the teacher read or tell to the class the play enti- tled "The Piper " by Josephine Preston Peabody (Mrs. Marks). HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TOAIX The "good news " carried by the valiant messengers is supposed to be news of the treaty of Ghent. This treaty was made in 1576, between Holland, Zealand and the Southern Netherlands, against the Spanish tyrant, Philip II. The distance in a straight line from Ghent to Aix is about sixty miles, but it would be considerably greater by the route given in the poem. According to Browning's own statement, there is no historical foundation for the incident narrated in the poem. ^ Willy. The child for whom the poem was written. FOR APPRECIATIVE RE.U)ING 33 I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern,^ the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a w^ord to each other; w^e kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle, and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique ^ right, Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; At Diiffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mechelri church steeple we heard the half- chime,^ So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun. And against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare through the mist at us galloping past. And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! ^ Postern. A small gate (in the wall). 2 Pique. The point. ' Half chime. Chimes striking the half-hour. 34 SEVENTH YEAR And the thick, heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon His fierce Kps shook upwards in galloping on. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees. And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, ^Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight! "How they'll greet us! " — and all in a moment his roan ^ Rolled neck and croup ^ over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. Then I cast loose my buff -coat, each holster ^ let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. * 1 Roan. A horse of a bay or chestnut color with white hairs thickly interspersed. 2 Neck and croup. Indicates that the horse had fallen flat on the ground, as contrasted with the sinking to her haunches of the other horse. ^ Holster. A pistol case, attached to the pommel of the saddle, one on each side. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 35 And all I remember is — friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Which (the burgesses ^ voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. Robert Browning. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS. Description of imaginative scenes, such as that suggested by " Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast." Traits of character shown by Roland's master. How the meter imitates the galloping of a horse. Other stories about horses taken from your own experience. HERVE RIEL Browning wrote this poem to provide money for the aid of the people of Paris after the Franco-German War. He received one hundred pounds, or about five hundred dollars, for it. The story is true to fact, except that the real Herve Riel asked for a holiday for the remainder of his life instead of for one day. On the sea and at the Hogue,^ sixteen hundred ninety-two. Did the English fight the French, — woe to France ! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue ^ Burgesses. Citizens of a borough or town. 2 La Hogue. On the northeast coast of Normandy. The battle referred to was fought May 19, 1692, between the French fleet on the one side and the combined fleets of the English and the Dutch on the other. This battle, in which the French were defeated, made the northern nations the rulers of the seas. 36 SEVENTH YEAR Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo ^ on the Ranee, With the Enghsh fleet in view. 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Dam- freville; Close on him fled, great and small. Twenty-two good ships in all; And they signalled to the place "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick — or, quicker still. Here's the English can and will!" 3 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board ; "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the 'Formidable' here with her twelve and eighty guns Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside? Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. ^ St. Malo. A town on the river Ranee. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 37 Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay!" Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? ^ Better run the ships agroimd I " (Ended Damfreville his speech). " Not a minute more to wait ! Let the Captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ! France must undergo her fate. "Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard ; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these — A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate — first, second, third? No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! 1 Plymouth Sound. Between Devonshire and Cornwall, south- western part of England. 38 SEVENTH YEAR But a simple Breton ^ sailor pressed ^ by Tourville ^ for the fleet, A poor coasting pilot, he, Herve Riel the Croisickese.^ 6 And, "What mockery or malice have we here?"' cried Herve Riel: "Are you mad, you Malouins? ^ Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me, who took the sound- ings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river dis- embogues? ^ Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay. Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor." Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, then know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me,. there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this ' Formidable ' clear, Make the others follow mine. * Breton. Inhabitant of Brittany. 2 Pressed. Impressed or drafted. 2 Tourville. Admiral of the French Navy. * Croisickese. A native of Le Croisic, a village of Brittany. 5 Malouins. Inhabitants of St. Malo. * Disembogues. Empties. ^ Solidor. A safe, fortified harbor on the mainland. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 39 And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor past Greve, And there lav them safe and sound: And if one ship misbehave, — Keel so much as grate the ground Why, I've nothing but my life, — here's my head!" cries Herve Riel. Not a minute more to wait. ''Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. Still the north-wind, by God's grace!" See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Gears the entrv like a hound. Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound ! See, safe through shoal and rock, How thev fol'ow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground. Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last, And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!" — sure as fate, Up the English come — too late! 8 So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave On the heights o'erlooking Greve. 40 SEVENTH YEAR Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance As they cannonade away! 'Neath the rampired ^ Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee!" How hope succeeds despair on each captain's counte- nance ! Out burst all with one accord, " This is Paradise for Hell ! Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing!" What a shout, and all one word, "HerveRiel!" As he stepped in front once more, Not a symptom of surprise In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before. 9 Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, Though I find that speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his ships. You must name vour own reward. 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damfreville." 1 Rampired. Fortified. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING • 41 10 Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton bhie: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done. And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? — Since 'tis ask and have, I may — Since the others go ashore — Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" ^ That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 11 Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing smack, In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.^ Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre,^ face and flank! You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Riel. ^ Belle Aurore. Literally, "beautiful dawn." 2 Bore the bell. Won the prize. ^ Louvre. The art gallery of Paris, wherein hang the pictures of famous heroes. 42 SEVENTH YEAR So, for better and for worse, Herve Kiel, accept my verse! In my verse, Herve Kiel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore ! Robert Browning. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Description of the opening scene or setting. (See stanzas 1-2.) Description of the scene when Herve Riel steps forward. Description of Herve Riel. (See stanzas 5, 7, 10.) Traits of character displayed by Herve Riel. Herve Riel's reward compared with other rewards about which you have known. IVRY A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS The battle of Ivry was fought on March 14, 1590. It was between the Catholic League under the leadership of the Duke of Mayenne and the Huguenots under Henry, King of Navarre, the rightful claimant of the throne of France. The poem is a song of victory in commemoration of the battle. The hero was later crowned as Henry IV. Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! Now let there be the merrv sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleas- ant land of France! And thou, Rochelle,^ our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. 1 Rochelle. A town on the bay of Biscay. It was the chief stronghold of the Huguenots. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 43 As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war. Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry,^ and Henry of Navarre. Oh! how our hearts were beating when, at the dawn of day, We saw the army of the League drav^n out in long array; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel-peers. And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine,^ the curses of our land; And dark INIayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand: And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's em- purpled flood. And good Coligni's ^ hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest. And he has bound a snow-white plume ^ upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; 1 Ivry. A village forty-two miles west of Paris. A memorial pyramid marks the battlefield. 2 Lorraine. The family name of the Dukes of Guise was Lor- raine. The Lorraines were leaders of the Catholics. 3 Coligni. A noted Huguenot general, at one time Prime Min- ister of France. He was the first victim of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, in which thousands of Huguenots perished. 4 Snow-white plume. The Protestants from 1562 on wore white as their emblem. White later became the royal color. 44 SEVENTH YEAR He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout, " God save our Lord the King I" " And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war. And be your oriflamme ^ to-day the helmet of Navarre." Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin ! The fiery Duke ^ is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain. With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders ^ and Almayne.^ Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies,^ — upon them with the lance. A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow- white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star. Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath turned his rein. 1 Oriflamme. Literally a flame of gold; it means a bright battle standard. The white plume could readily be seen by Henry's followers. • 2 Fiery Duke. The Duke of Mayenne. ^ Guelders. A Netherland province. * Almayne. Also Allemagne. The French name for Germany. 5 Golden liUes. The royal flag was blue with golden lilies. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 45 D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, "Remember St. Bartholomew!" ^ was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my foe: Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren go- Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of Na- varre? Bight well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France to-day; And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. But we of the religion have borne us best in fight; And the good Lord of Rosny ^ hath ta'en the cornet white. Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en, The cornet white w^ith crosses black, the flag of false Lorraine. Up with it high; unfurl it wide; that all the host may know How^ God hath humbled the proud house which wrought his Church such woe. 1 St. Bartholomew. A massacre of French Protestants on St. Bartholomew's Day, August 23-24, 1572. The Duke of Guise had been one of the leaders in this massacre. 2 Lord of Rosny. Maximilian, Lord of Rosny, became the leader of the liberal party in France. 46 SEVENTH YEAR Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest point of war, Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of Navarre. Ho! maidens of Vienna; ^ ho! matrons of Lucerne; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho ! Philip,^ send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,^ That Antwerp ^ monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright; Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night. For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave. And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of the brave; Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are; And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre. Thomas Babington Macaulay. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Description of Henry of Navarre. Description of the scene at the moment when " A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest." ^ Vienna. Don John of Austria, brother of Philip II, was a member of the Catholic League. 2 Philip. Philip II of Spain, one of the leaders of the League. 3 Mexican pistoles. Coins gained from the Spanish conquest of Mexico. * Antwerp. Philip also had control of the Netherlands. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 47 Description of the scene after the battle is over. Impressions of Henry of Navarre's character, gained from the poem. A comparison of the swing and speed of the verse with the meter of " How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." Note that in this poem the meter is alike all the way through to fit the sameness of the theme and feeling ; then compare this meter with the irregularity of " The Pied Piper of Hamelin." MEMORY GEMS "Honor thy father and thy mother" stands written among the three laws of most revered righteousness. ^SCHYLUS. Keep the golden mean between saying too much and too little. ) Syrus. Man is not the creature of circumstances: circum- stances are the creatures of man. Disraeli. Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. Emerson. Be noble! And the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. Lowell. 'Tis not what man does which exalts him, but what man would do. Browning. To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language. Bryant. . 48 MEMORY GEMS 49 There is a t'de in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. Shakespeare. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of stee\ Shakespeare. Oh, many a shaft at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken. May soothe or wound a heart that's broken. Scott. For of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these: " It might have been ! " ' Whittier. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed and some few to be chewed and digested. Bacon. Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam. Milton. 'Tis education forms the common mind ! Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. Pope. Procrastination is the thief of time. ^ Young. Labor to keep alive in your breast the little spark of celestial fire, Conscience. Washington. 50 SEVENTH YEAR Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control — These three alone lead life to sovereign power. \ Tennyson. Life is a leaf of paper white, Whereon each one of us may write His word or two; and then comes night. Though thou have time But for a line, be that sublime; Not failure, but low aim is crime. Lowell. Heaven is not reached at a single bound, But we build the ladder by which we rise ^ From the lowly earth to the lofty skies, And we mount to the summit round by round. Holland. Books are the legacies that genius leaves to mankind. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. BOURDILLON. But dost thou love life? Then do not waste time, for that's the stuff life is made of. f- Franklin. The heights by great men reached and kept. Were not attained by sudden flight. But they, while their companions slept. Were toiling upwards in the night. ' Longfellow. HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING f POCAHONTAS Wearied arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight; Round him press a countless horde. He is but a single knight. Hark! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds. Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the funeral pyre, And the torch of death they light; Ah ! 'tis hard to die bv fire ! Who will shield the captive knight? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd; Cold the victim's mien and proud. And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart? Who avert the murderous blade? From the throng with sudden start See, there springs an Indian maid. Quick she stands before the knight: "Loose the chain, unbind the ring! I am the daughter of the king. And I claim the Indian right!" 51 52 SEVENTH YEAR Dauntlessly aside she flings Lifted axe and thirsty knife, Fondly to his heart she dings, And her bosom guards his Hfe! In the woods of Powhattan, Still 'tis told by Indian fires How a daughter of their sires Saved a captive Englishman. William Makepeace Thackeray. PAUL REVERE'S RIDE Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, '' If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North •Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm. For the country folk to be up and to arm. " Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 53 A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon Uke a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, Wanders and watches with eager ears. Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door. The sound of arms and the tramp of feet. And the measured tread of the grenadiers. Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread. To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade, — By the trembling ladder, steep and tall. To the highest window in the wall. Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. In their night-encampment on the hill. Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent. And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; 54 SEVENTH YEAR For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay, — A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now gazed at the landscape far and near. Then, impetuous, stamped the earth. And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns! A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, g, bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flames with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep. And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep. Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 55 Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock. When he crossed the bridge into ]Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock. And the barking of the farmer's dog. And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock. When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed. And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if thev alreadv stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock. When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock. And the twitter of birds among the trees. And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed W^ho at the bridge would be first to fall. Who that day would be Iving dead, Pierced bv a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read. How the British Regulars fired and fled, — ■ How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. 56 SEVENTH YEAR Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need. The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. And the midnight message of Paul Revere. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. CONCORD HYIVIN SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836 By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream. We set to-dav a votive stone; HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 57 That memory may their deed redeem, When, hke our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leaye their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee. Ralph Waldo Emerson. WARREN'S ADDRESS TO THE A:\IERICAN SOLDIERS Stand! the ground's your own, my brayes! Will ye giye it up to slayes? Will ye look for greener grayes? Hope ye mercy still? WTiat's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Read it on yon bristling steel! Ask it, — ye who will. Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your homes retire? Look behind you! they're afire! And, before you, see WTio haye done it ! — From the yale On they come! — And will ye quail? — Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust ! Die we may, — and die we must; 58 SEVENTH YEAR But, oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well. As where Heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell ! John Pierpont. SONG OF MARION'S MEN Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines. Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. Woe to the English soldiery That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear; When waking to their tents on fire They grasp their arms in vain, And they w^ho stand to face us Are beat to earth again; And they who fly in terror deem A mighty host behind. HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 59 And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind. Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil: We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up. And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly, On beds of oaken leaves. Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that ]\Iarion leads — The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds. 'Tis life to guide the fiery barb Across the moonlight plain; 'Tis life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane. A moment in the British camp — A moment — and awav Back to the pathless forest, Before the peep of day. Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoary hairs, Their hearts are all with ]Marion, For Marion are their prayers. 60 SEVENTH YEAR And lovely ladies greet our band, With kindliest welcoming, With smiles like those of summer, And tears like those of spring. For them we wear these trusty arms. And lav them down no more Till we have driven the Briton, Forever, from our shore. Willi A^i Cullen Bryant. Joaquin Miller'' s " Columbus " is also included among the History Poems designated for Collateral Reading in the Seventh Year. See '^Selections for Memorizing," Seventh Year, page 11. EIGHTH YEAR SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING BATTLE HYIVIN OF THE REPUBLIC Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is tramphng out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps ; Thev have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flar- ing lamps: His dav is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; " As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel : Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; 61 62 EIGHTH YEAR He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, mv feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. Julia Ward Howe. By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. RECESSIONAL God of our fathers, known of old. Lord of our far-flung battle line — Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget ! The tumult and the shouting dies — The Captains and the Kings depart - Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice. An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. Lest we forget — lest we forget ! Far-called our navies melt away — On dune and headland sinks the fire - liO, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tvre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet. Lest we forget — lest we forget ! SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 63 If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — Such boastings as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget ! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard — All valiant dust that builds on dust. And guarding calls not Thee to guard. For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord ! RuDYARD Kipling. GETTYSBURG ADDRESS Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new^ nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing w^hether that nation, or any nation so con- ceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedi- cate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or de- tract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated 64 EIGHTH YEAR here to the unfinished work which they wlio fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devo- tion to that cause for which they gave the last full meas- ure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that gov- ernment of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth. Abraham Lincoln. ON BOOKS The conviction deepens in me that the best possible education which any man can acquire is an intimate acquaintance with these few great minds who have escaped the wrecks of time and have become, with the lapse of years, a kind of impersonal wisdom, summing up the common experiences of the race and distilling it drop by drop into the perfect forms of art. The man who knows his Homer thoroughly knows more about the Greeks than he who has familiarized himself with all the work of the archieologists and the philologists and mythologists of the Homeric age. The man who has mastered Dante has penetrated the secret of medisevalism; the man who counts Shake- speare as his friend can afford to leave most of the books about Elizabethan England unread. To really know Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe is to know the best the world has thought and said and done, is to enter into that inheritance of ex- perience and knowledge which is the truest and, at bottom, the only education. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 65 Most of US know too manv writers, and waste our strength in a vain endeavor to establish relations of in- timacy with a multitude of men, great and small, who profess to have some claim upon us. It is both pleasant and wise to have a large acquaint- ance, to know life broadly, and at its best, but our in- timate friends can never, in the nature of things, be many. We may know a host of interesting people, but we can really live with but a few. And it is these few and faithful ones, whose names I see in the dying light of the old year and the first, faint gleam of the new. Hamilton Wright Mabie. Used by permission from "My Study Fire;" copyright, 1899, by Dodd, Mead & Company. ON BOOKS The same book may be read in entirely different ways and with entirelv diflFerent results. One mav, for in- stance, read Shakespeare's historical plays simply for the story element which runs through them, and for the interest which the skillful use of that element excites; and in such a reading there will be distinct gain for the reader. This is the way in w^hich a healthy boy gener- ally reads these plays for the first time. From such a reading one will get information and refreshment; more than one English statesman has confessed that he owed his knowledge of certain periods of English history largely to Shakespeare. On the other hand, one may read these plays for the joy of the art that is in them, and for the enrichment which comes from contact with the deep and tumultuous life which throbs through 66 EIGHTH YEAR them; and this is the kind of reading which produces culture, the reading which means enlargement and ripening. Hamilton Wright Mabie. Used by permission from "Books and Culture;" copyright, 1899, by Dodd, Mead & Company. REATHES THERE A MAN WITH SOUL SO DEAD From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel " Breathes there the man with soul so dead, W^ho never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd. As home his footsteps he hath turn'd. From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name. Boundless his wealth as wish can claim — Despite those titles, power, and pelf. The wretch, concenter'd all in self. Living, shall forfeit fair renown. And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung. Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung. Sir Walter Scott. A MORNING SONG From " Cymheline j> Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Pha^bus 'gins arise, SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 67 His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that Hes; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise! William Sil\kespeare. AT MORNING The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and duties. Help us to play the man, help us to perform them with laughter and kind faces, let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us to go blithely on our business all this day, bring us to our resting beds weary and content and undishonored, and grant us in the end the gift of sleep. Robert Louis Stevenson. SONG OF THE CAMP "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, The outer trenches guarding, When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay grim and threatening, under; And the tawnv mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said, " We storm the forts to-morrow; 68 EIGHTH YEAR Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow/' They lay along the battery's side, Below the smoking cannon, — Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, And from the banks of Shannon. They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory: Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie." Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — Their battle-eve confession. Dear girl, her name he dared not speak; But, as the song grew louder. Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunset's embers. While the Crimean valleys learned How English love remembers. And once again a fire of hell Rained on the Russian quarters. With scream of shot, and burst of shell, And bellowing of the mortars! And Irish Nora's eves are dim For a singer, dumb and gory; SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 69 And English Mary mourns for him Who sang of ''Annie Laurie." Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest Your trust and valor wearing! The bravest are the tenderest, — The loving are the daring. Bayard Taylor. By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. BUGLE SONG The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; Blow, bugle; answer, echoes — dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying; Blow, bugle; answer, echoes — dying, dying, dying. O love! they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill, or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; And answer, echoes, answer — dying, dying, dying. Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 70 EIGHTH YEAR THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE What time the rose of dawn is laid across the hps of night, And all the drowsy little stars have fallen asleep in light; 'Tis then a wandering wind awakes, and runs from tree to tree, And borrows words from ail the birds to sound the reveille. This is the carol the Robin throws Over the edge of the valley; Listen how boldly it flows, Sally on sally: Tirra-lirra, Down the river. Laughing water , All a-quiver. Day is near, Clear, clear. Fish are breaking. Time for waking, Tup, tup, tup! Do you hear? All clear — Wake up! The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark. And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark; Now forth she fares through friendly woods and diamond- fields of dew, Wliile every voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world were new, This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, l^nto his mate replying, Shaking the tune from his wings While he is flying: SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 71 Surely, surely, surely, life is dear Even here. Blue above, You to love, Purely, purely, purely. There's a wild azalea on the hill, and roses down the dell, And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well ; The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink, Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink. This is the song of the Yellowthroat, Fluttering gaily beside you; Hear how each voluble note Offers to guide you: Which wav, sir? I say, sir, Let me teach you, I beseech you! Are you wishing Jolly fishing? This way, sir! I'll teach you. Then come, my friend, forget your foes, and leave your fears behind. And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful quiet mind ; For be your fortune great or small, you'll take what God may give. And all the day your heart shall say, " 'Tis luck enough to five." 72 EIGHTH YEAR This is the song the Brown Thrush flings, Out of his thicket of roses; Hark how it warbles and rings, Mark how it closes : Luck, luck, What luck? Good enough for me! I'm alive, you see. Sun shining. No repining; Never borrow Idle sorrow; Drop it! Cover it up ! Hold your cup! Joy will fill it. Don't spill it. Steady, be ready, Good luck! Henry Van Dyke. From "Music and other Poems;" copyright, 1894, by Charles Scribner's Sons. O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done. The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won. The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring. But O heart! heart! heart! Oh, the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 73 O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up ! — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here, Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head ! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still. My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done. From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Walt Whitman. By permission of David McKay, publisher. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING THE SKELETON IN ARMOR In Longfellow's own words the poem was suggested "while rid- ing on the seashore at Newport. A year or two previous, a skele- ton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and corroded armor; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known hitherto as the Old Windmill, though now claimed by the Danes as a work of their early ancestors." "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest,. Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?" Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise. As when the Northern skies, Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow. Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. (( I was a Viking ^ old ! My deeds, though manifold. No Skald ^ in song has told, 1 Viking. A Norse sea rover. 2 Skald. A poet or singer. 74 ^ FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 75 No Saga ^ taught thee ! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse; For this I sought thee. " Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon;^ And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen sound, That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on. "Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear. While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf 's ^ bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew. Joining a corsair's ^ crew. O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, 1 Saga. A legend or tradition of the Norsemen. 2 Gerfalcon. A type of falcon larger and more powerful than the ordinary bird. ^ Were-wolf. A fabulous human being who could at will change himself into the form of a wolf. ^ Corsair. A wandering adventurer of the sea. 76 EIGHTH YEAR Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders. " Many a wassail-bout ^ Wore the long winter out; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk's ^ tale Measured in cups of ale. Draining the oaken pail. Filled to o'erflowing. "Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea. Soft eyes did gaze on me. Burning, yet tender; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine. On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor. " I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid. And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast. Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted. "Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall, 1 Wassail-bout. A drinking bout. 2 Berserk. Literally, a bear; in Norse folklore, one of a class of wild warriors of the heathen age. They were supposed to be able to assume animal shapes, particularly that of the bear. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 77 Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand ^ I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story. "While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly. So the loud laugh of scorn. Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn ^ Blew the foam lightly. "She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild. And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight. Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded? "Scarce had I put to sea. Bearing the maid with me. Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen! When on the white sea-strand, Waving his armed hand, Saw we old Hildebrand, With twenty horsemen. ^ Hildebrand. A mythical Prince of Norway. 2 Drinking-horn. Drinking receptacles were often made of the horns of cattle. 78 EIGHTH YEAR "Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw,^ So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail. Death! was the helmsman's hail. Death without quarter! Mid-ships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel ; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water! "As with his wings aslant. Sails the fierce cormorant,^ Seeking some rocky haunt. With his prey laden; So toward the open main. Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, * Skaw. A promontory, a headland. 2 Cormorant. A large sea bird found in the north„ FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 79 "WTiich, to this very hour, Stands looking seaward. " There Hved we many years ; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes. Under that tower ^ she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another! " Still grew my bosom then. Still as a stagnant fen ! ^ Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In that vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear. Fell I upon my spear, O, death was grateful ! "Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars INIy soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! ^ to the Northland! skoal!'' Thus the tale ended. Henry Wadsw^orth Longfellow. 1 Tower. Refers to the Round Tower at Newport. 2 Fen. A low marshy place. 3 Skoal! Hail! Salutation or toast by crying "skoal." 80 EIGHTH YEAR TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Imaginative description of the Viking. Characterization of the Viking. Instances to show that the Viking was " wild." The boyhood of the Viking. Characterization of " the blue-eyed maid." Information about ancient Norse life to be found in the poem. HORATIUS This ballad is based upon the legendary history of Rome as recorded by Livy and other Roman historians. The action of the story takes place about the year 509 B.C. The rule of Tarquin, the King of Rome, became so tyrannical that he was banished from the city. The citizens then established a republic governed by two men called Consuls who were chosen annually. Tarquin attempted to regain the throne and in his efforts was aided by Porsena the King of Etruria. In the struggle between the Romans and the allied forces Horatius is supposed to have made the cour- ageous defence of a bridge over the river Tiber that is here described. 1 Lars Porsena ^ of Cluslum By the Nine Gods ^ he swore, That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. ^ Lars Porsena. King or chief of Clusium, a town in Etruria. Etruria, corresponding to the modern Tuscany, was the seat of the most ancient civilization of Italy. In territory it extended along the Mediterranean and was separated from Umbria, the Sabine territory, and from Latium by the Tiber. It contained a confederation of twelve cities, remains of which are occasionally to be found. The Etruscans were powerful in naval affairs. Re- mains of their architecture and art still exist. 2 Nine Gods. Juno, Minerva, Tinia, Vulcan, Mars, Saturn, Hercules, Lummanus, Vedius. — Brewer. ^ Great house of Tarquin. Rome had seven legendary kings, of whom the fifth and the seventh were Tarquins, an exceedingly tyrannical family. The Tarquins were of Etruscan origin. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 81 By the Nine Gods he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth. East and west and south and north. To summon his array. 2 East and west and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home. When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome! 3 The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain ^ From many a stately market place. From many a fruitful plain; From many a lonely hamlet. Which, hid by beach and pine. Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine.^ From lordlv Volaterrse,^ Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings of old; 1 Amain. In great haste. 2 Apennine. The mountain range that extends through cen- tral Italy. 3 Volaterrse. One of the Etruscan cities. It was built on a hill. 82 EIGHTH YEAR From seagirt Populonia/ Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing the southern sky; From the proud mart of Pisse,^ Queen of the western waves, Where ride Massiha's ^ triremes Heavy with fair-haired slaves; From where sweet Clanis ^ wanders Through corn and vines and flowers; From where Cortona ^ lifts to heaven Her diadem of towers. 6 Tall are the oaks whose acorns Drop in dark Auser's ^ rill; Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian^ hill; Beyond all streams Clitumnus ^ Is to the herdsman dear; Best of all pools the fowler loves The great Volsinian mere.^ But now no stroke of woodman Is heard by Auser's rill; Populonia, Cortona, Ciminian. Ancient Etruscan cities. Pisse. An Etruscan town. Massilia. The modern city is called Marseilles. Clanis, Auser. Etruscan rivers. Clitumnus. A stream flowing into the river Tiber. Volsinian mere. Now Lake Bolsena. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 83 No hunter tracks the stag's green path Up the Ciminian hill; Unwatched along Clitumnus Grazes the milk-white steer; Unharmed the waterfowl may dip In the Volsinian mere. 8 The harvests of Arretium/ This year, old men shall reap, This year, young boys in Umbro ^ Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna ^ This year, the must shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome. 9 There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land. Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand: Evening and morn the Thirty Have turned the verses o'er. Traced from the right ^ on linen white By mighty seers of yore. 10 And with one voice the Thirtv Have their glad answer given: ^ Arretiiim. An Etruscan city. 2 Umbro. An Etruscan river, now the Ombrone. ^ Luna. An Etruscan town noted for its wines. ^ Traced from the right. The Etruscans began at the right and wrote toward the left. 84 EIGHTH YEAR "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven: Go, and return in glory To Clusium's roval dome; And hang round Xurscia's ^ altars The golden shields of Rome." 11 And now hath every, city Sent up her tale " of men : The foot are fourscore thousand. The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium ^ Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day. 12 For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye, And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following To join the muster came The Tusculan IMamilius,^ Prince of the Latian name. 13 But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: ^ Nurscia. A town of the Sabines, one of the Itahan tribes. 2 Tale. Count or number. Compare with our word tally. ' Sutrium. An Etruscan town. * MamiHus. A son-in-law of Tarquin the Proud (Tarquinius Superbus), the last of the Roman kings. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 85 From all the spacious champaign ^ To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; A fearful sight it was to see Through two long nights and days. 14 For aged folks on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled. And sick men borne in litters High on the necks of slaves. And troops of sunburnt husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves, 15 And droves of mules and asses Laden with skins of wine, And endless flocks of goats and sheep, And endless herds of kine. And endless trains of wagons That creaked beneath the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate. 16 Now, from the rock Tarpeian,^ Could the wan burghers spy * Champaign. Country. 2 The rock Tarpeian. Tarpeia, a Roman governor's daughter, tempted by the golden ornaments of the invading Sabines, had agreed to open the gate of the fortress for them. When they had entered, they cast their shields on her, crushing her to death. From this legend the Tarpeian rock, a part of the Capitoline hill, was named. 86 ' EIGHTH YEAR The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky. The Fathers of the City, They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay. 17 To eastward and to westward Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house nor fence nor dovecote In Crustumerium ^ stands. Verbenna ^ down to Ostia ^ Hath wasted all the plain ; Astur ^ hath stormed Janiculum, ^ And the stout guards are slain. 18 Iwis,^ in all the Senate, There was no heart so bold. But sore it ached, and fast it beat. When that ill news was told. Forthwith up rose the Consul,^ Up rose the Fathers all : In haste they girded up their gowns And hied them to the wall. * Crustumerium, Ostia. In ancient geography, cities in the vicinity of Rome. 2 Verbenna. An Etruscan chief. See stanza 23. ^ Astur. See stanza 42. ^ Janicuhun. A hill on the right bank of the Tiber, directly across the river from the city, wherein the Romans had taken refuge. ^ Iwis. Certainly. ^ Consul. When the kings of Rome were driven out, the gov- ernment was vested in two consuls chosen every year. See intro- duction. FOR APPRECIATIVE RESIDING 87 19 They held a council standing Before the River Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate. Out spoke the Consul roundly: "The bridge^ must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost. Naught else can save the town." 20 Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear; "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; Lars Porsena is here." On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye. And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky. 21 And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come, And louder still and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, • Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears. Far to left and far to right, In broken gleams of dark-blue light, ^ The bridge. This bridge, known as the SubHcian bridge, con- nected Janicuhim with the city. The name was derived from the Latin sublicae meaning props. 8S EIGHTH YEAR The long array of helmets bright, The long array of spears. 22 And plainly and more plainly Above that glimmering line, Now might ye see the banners Of twelve fair cities ^ shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all. The terror of the Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul. 23 And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know. By port and vest,^ by horse and crest, Each warlike Lucumo.^ There Cilnius ^ of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen; And Astur ^ of the fourfold shield. Girt with the brand none else may wield, Tolumnius ^ with the belt of gold, And dark Verbenna ^ from the hold ^ By reedy Thrasymene.^ 1 Twelve fair cities. The twelve cities of Etruria. See note, stanza 1. 2 Port and vest. Bearing and dress. Compare with deport- ment, vestment or vesture. ^ Lucumo. A general title given to the Etruscan chiefs. Some of the individual chiefs are named below. ^ Cilnius, Astur, Tolumnius, Verbenna. Etruscan chiefs. ^ Hold. His fortress. ^ Thrasymene. An Etruscan lake, now called Perugia. Here, some centuries later, the Romans were defeated by the Carthagin- ians under Hannibal. Another form of the ancient name was Trasimenus. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 89 24 Fast by the royal standard, O'erlooking all the war, Lars Porsena of Clusium Sat in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false Sextus,^ That wrought the deed of shame. 25 But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose. On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses. And shook its little fist. 26 But the Consul's brow was sad. And the Consul's speech was low. And darkly looked he at the wall. And darkly at the foe. "Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge. What hope to save the town? J) 1 Sextus. A member of the Tarquin family. His wicked insult to Lucretia, the wiie of a kinsman, had led to the banishment of the Tarquins from Rome. 90 EIGHTH YEAR 27 Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: "To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods, 28 (( And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest, And for the wife who nurses His babv at her breast. And for the holv maidens ^ Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false vSextus, That wrought the deed of shame? 29 "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?" * The holy maidens. Young women kno\\Ti as Vestal Virgins kept the sacred fire of Vesta eternally burning in the temple of the Goddess, which stood in the Roman Forum. FOK APPRECIATIVE READING 91 30 Then out spake Spuriiis Lartius; A Ramnian ^ proud was he : "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee/' And out spake strong Herminius; Of Titian ^ blood was he : " I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee. 31 jr "Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life. In the brave days of old. 32 Then none was for a party; Then all were for the State; Then the great man helped the poor. And the poor man loved the great : Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old. 1 Ramnian, Titian. The three original tribes of Rome were Ramnes, Tities and Luceres. Horatius was a member of the tribe of the Luceres. 92 EIGHTH YEAR 33 Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes ^ beard the high, And the Fathers ^ grind the low. As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold : Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old. 34 Now while the Three were tightening Their harness ^ on their backs. The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe: And Fathers mixed with Commons ^ Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. And smote upon the planks above. And loosed the props below. 35 Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold. Came flashing back the noonday light. Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee. As that great host, with measured tread, 1 Tribunes. Officers representing the common people. 2 Fathers. The patricians or noble class. ^ Harness. Armor. ^ Commons. The common people. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 93 And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head. Where stood the dauntless Three. 36 The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose; And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew. And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way; 37 Annus ^ from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius,^ whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; ^ And Picus,^ long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar.^ 38 Stout Lartius hurled down Annus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: * Aunus Seius, Picus. Etruscan chiefs. 2 Ilva. The modern name is Elba. This is the island to which Napoleon was banished. It is famed for its iron mines. ^ Nar. A river noted for its white color. 94 EIGHTH YEAR At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust. 39 Then Oenus ^ of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus ^ of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns ^ of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore. 40 Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low: Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow. "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail." 41 But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes. 1 Ocnus, Lausulus, Aruns. Etruscan chiefs. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 95 A wild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way. 42 But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield. 43 He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he: " The she-wolf's litter ^ Stand savagely at bay; But will ve dare to follow. If Astur clears the way?" 44 Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, 1 The she-wolf's Utter. This refers to the story that tlie twin infants, Romukis and Remus, when deserted and left to die, were found and nursed by a she-wolf. Romulus and Remus were the fabled founders of Rome. 96 EIGHTH YEAR He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm/ but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow. 45 He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing space; Then like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped. The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. 46 And the great Lord of Luna Fell at the deadly stroke. As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder-smitten oak. Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs,- muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head. 47 On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel, 1 Helm. Helmet. 2 Augurs. The priests who foretold the future by means of signs. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 97 And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steeL "And see," he cried, "the welcome. Fair guests, that waits you here! WTiat noble Lucumo ^ comes next To taste our Roman cheer? .0 'J 48 But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread. Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race; For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place. 49 But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And, from the ghastly entrance ^Yhere those bold Romans stood. All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood. 50 Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack: ^ Lucumo. See note, stanza 23. 98 EIGHTH YEAR But those behind cried "Forward!" And those before cried "Back!" And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array; And on the tossing sea of steel, To and fro the standards reel; And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away. 51 Yet one man for one moment Stood out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud, "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome." 52 Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury. And thrice turned back in dread; And, white with fear and hatred. Scowled at the narrow w^ay Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay. 53 But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 99 "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Loud cried the Fathers all. "Back, Lartius! Back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruins fall I" 54 Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers cn^ck. But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone. They would have crossed once more. 55 But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam. And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream; And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. 56 And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane. And burst the curb, and bounded, Rejoicing to be free, 100 EIGHTH YEAR And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea. 57 Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "Now yield thee to our grace?" 58 Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus ^ The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. 59 "Oh, Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms. Take thou in charge this day!" So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side. And with his harness on his back Plunged headlong in the tide. 1 Palatinus. One of the hills on which Rome was built. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 101 60 No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard on either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted Hps and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank: And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. 61 But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain; And fast his blood was flowing, And he was sore in pain. And heavy with his armor. And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking. But still again he rose. 62 Never, I ween,^ did swimmer. In such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing-place: But his limbs were borne up bravely Bv the brave heart within. And our good father Tiber Bore bravely up his chin. ^ Ween. Think, imagine. 102 ?i:iGHTH YEAR 63 "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; "Will not the villain drown? But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town!" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." 64 And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud. He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd. 65 They gave him of the corn-land,^ That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plow from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high. And there it stands unto this dav, To witness if I lie. ^ Corn-land. Certain of the lands were held in common by the State. From these public lands, a portion was given Horatius as an award. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 103 66 * It stands in the Comitium/ Plain for all folk to see; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee: And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old. 67 And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet blast that cries to them To charge the Volscian home; And wives still pray to Juno ^ For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old. 68 And in the nights of winter, When the cold north-winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow; ^^^len round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din. And the good logs of Algidus ^ Roar louder vet within; 1 Comitium. A meeting place for those who made the laws. It was a part of the Forum. 2 Juno. The principal Goddess in Roman mythology, the wife of Jupiter, the King of the Gods. She was regarded as the special protector of marriage and as the guardian of women. 2 Algidus. A hill near Rome from which fire wood was obtained. 104 EIGHTH YEAR 69 \^nien the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows; 70 When the goodman mends his armor. And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom. With weeping and with laughter Still is the storv told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave davs of old. Thomas Babington Macaulay. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS. An account of the fight on the bridge. Description of such pictures as are given in stanzas 20-24, 35- 36, 46, 56, 60-61, 68-70. Description of imaginative pictures, such as that suggested by the lines, " He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing space." Description of the personal appearance of Horatius, Astur, etc. Traits of character shown by Horatius. Characterization of Sextus and of Lars Porsena. (See stanza 63.) Roman home life. (See stanzas 68, 70.) FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 105 RHCECUS This poem is founded upon a beautiful Greek myth. The youth, Rhcecus, while passing through the forest, noticed an oak just ready to fall. He stopped to save the tree, and was rewarded by a glimpse of the wood nymph inhabiting it. She told him that he had saved her life as well as that of the tree, and gratefully bade him ask what reward he desired. Rhoecus boldly sought her love, which she granted and told him to meet her an ho ir before sunset. She wanted him to be constant, and told him that a bee would be her messenger. But Rhoecus, later in the day, met some friends, and in the ex- citement of a game of chance with them forgot his promise to the n3'mph. When the bee came, he at first angrily brushed it away, but at last, realizing that this was the messenger from the wood nymph, he hurried to the place of meeting. Here he was too late; the nymph was invisible. He heard only her voice chiding him for his lack of constancy and telling him of the great love he had loct. According to the older tradition the nymph deprived Rhcecus of his physical sight, but Lowell gives us a different version in this poem. God sends his teachers unto every age, To every chme, and every race of men, With revelations fitted to their growth And shape of mind, nor gives the realm of Truth Into the selfish rule of one sole race: Therefore each form of worship that hath swayed The life of man, and given it to grasp The master-key of knowledge, reverence, Infolds some germs of goodness and of right; Else never had the eager soul, which loathes The slothful down of pampered ignorance, Found in it even a moment's fitful rest. There is an instinct in the human heart Which makes that all the fables it hath coined. To justify the reign of its belief And strengthen it by beauty's right divine, 106 EIGHTH YEAR Veil in their inner cells a mystic gift, Which, like the hazel twig, in faithful hands. Points surely to the hidden springs of truth. For, as in nature naught is made in vain. But all things have within their hull of use A wisdom and a meaning which may speak Of spiritual secrets to the ear Of spirit; so, in whatsoe'er the heart Hath fashioned for a solace to itself. To make its inspirations suit its creed, And from the niggard ^ hands of falsehood wring Its needful food of truth, there ever is A sympathy with Nature, which reveals, Not less than her own works, pure gleams of light And earnest parables of inward lore. Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece, As full of gracious youth and beauty still As the immortal freshness of that grace Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze.^ A youth named Rhoecus, wandering in the wood, Saw an old oak just trembling to its fall. And, feeling pity of so fair a tree, He propped its gray trunk with admiring care. And with a thoughtless footstep loitered on. But, as he turned, he heard a voice behind That murmured "Rhoecus!" 'Twas as if the leaves. Stirred by a passing breath, had murmured it, And, while he paused bewildered, yet again It murmured "Rhoecus!" softer than a breeze. He started and beheld with dizzy eyes What seemed the substance of a happy dream 1 Niggard. Miserly, stingy. 2 Frieze. A sculptured or richly ornamental band or strip in the wall of a building. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 107 Stand there before him, spreading a warm glow Within the green glooms of the shadowy oak. It seemed a woman's shape, yet far too fair To be a woman, and with eyes too meek For any that were wont to mate with gods. All naked like a goddess stood she there, And like a goddess all too beautiful To feel the guilt-born earthliness of shame. "Rhoecus, I am the Dryad ^ of this tree," Thus she began, dropping her low-toned words Serene, and full, and clear, as drops of dew, "And with it I am doomed to live and die; The rain and sunshine are my caterers, Nor have I other bliss than simple life; Now ask me what thou wilt, that I can give, And with a thankful joy it shall be thine." Then Rhoecus, with a flutter at the heart, Yet, by the prompting of such beauty, bold, Answered: "What is there that can satisfy The endless craving of the soul but love? Give me thy love, or but the hope of that Which must be- evermore my nature's goal." After a little pause she said again. But with a glimpse of sadness in her tone, "I give it, Rhoecus, though a perilous gift; An hour before the sunset meet me here." And straightway there was nothing he could see But the green glooms beneath the shadowy oak, And not a sound came to his straining ears But the low trickling rustle of the leaves, And far away upon an emerald slope The falter of an idle shepherd's pipe. 1 Dryad. Literally, a tree inhabitant. A wood nymph. 108 EIGHTH YEAR. Now, in those days of simpleness and faith, Men did not think that happy things were dreams Because they overstepped the narrow bourn Of hkehhood, but reverently deemed Nothing too wondrous or too beautiful To be the guerdon ^ of a daring heart. So Rhoecus made no doubt that he was blest, And all along unto the city's gate Earth seemed to spring beneath him as he walked, The clear, broad sky looked bluer than its wont, And he could scarce believe he had not wings, Such sunshine seemed to glitter through his veins Instead of blood, so light he felt and strange. Young Rhoecus had a faithful heart enough, But one that in the present dwelt too much. And, taking with blithe welcome whatsoe'er Chance gave of joy, was wholly bound in that, Like the contented peasant of a vale, Deemed it the world, and never looked beyond. So, haply meeting in the afternoon Some comrades who were playing at the dice, He joined them, and forgot all else beside. The dice were rattling at the merriest, And Rhoecus, who had met but sorry luck. Just laughed in triumph at a happy throw. When through the room there hummed a yellow bee That buzzed about his ear with down-dropped legs As if to light. And Rhoecus laughed and said, Feeling how red and flushed he was with loss, ^ Guerdon. A reward. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 109 "By Venus! ^ does he take me for a rose?" Aiid brushed him off with rough, impatient hand. But still the bee came back, and thrice again Rhoecus did beat him off with growing wrath. Then through the window flew the wounded bee, And Rhoecus, tracking him with angry eyes, Saw a sharp mountain-peak of Thessaly ^ Against the red disk of the setting sun, — And instantly the blood sank from his heart, As if its very walls had caved away. Without a word he turned, and, rushing forth. Ran madly through the city and the gate. And o'er the plain, which now the wood's long shade, By the low sun thrown forward broad and dim, Darkened wellnigh unto the city's wall. Quite spent and out of breath he reached the tree. And, listening fearfully, he heard once more The low voice murmur "Rhoecus!" close at hand: Whereat he looked around him, but could see Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the oak. Then sighed the voice, "O Rhoecus! nevermore Shalt thou behold me or by day or night. Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love More ripe and bounteous than ever yet Filled up mth nectar ^ any mortal heart : But thou didst scorn my humble messenger. And sent'st him back to me with bruised wings. We spirits only show to gentle eyes, We ever ask an undivided love. And he who scorns the least of Nature's works ^ Venus. The goddess of beauty. 2 Thessaly. In ancient times the northeastern division of Greece. ■^ Nectar. The drink of the gods. 110 EIGHTH YEAR Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all. Farewell! for thou canst never see me more." Then Rhoecus beat his breast, and groaned aloud, And cried, " Be pitiful ! forgive me yet This once, and I shall never need it more!" "Alas!" the voice returned, "'tis thou art blind, Not I unmerciful; I can forgive. But have no skill to heal thy spirit's eyes; Only the soul hath power o'er itself." With that again there murmured "Nevermore!" And Rhoecus after heard no other sound. Except the rattling of the oak's crisp leaves, Like the long surf upon a distant shore. Raking the sea-worn pebbles up and down. The night had gathered round him : o'er the plain The city sparkled with its thousand lights, And sounds of revel fell upon his ear Harshly and like a curse; above, the sky. With all its bright sublimity of stars. Deepened, and on his forehead smote the breeze: Beauty was all around him and delight. But from that eve he was alone on earth. James Russell Lowell. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Discussion of the value of the introduction, as comprised in the first two stanzas. Imaginative description of the place where the dryad lived. Characterization of Rhoecus. Discussion of the lesson of the story: " Only the soul hath power o'er itself." FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 111 UNDER THE OLD ELM At Cambridge there stands an old elm, at whose base is fixed a stone bearing the following inscription: "Under this tree Wash- ington first took command of the American Army, July 3rd, 1775." On July 3rd, 1875, one hundred years later, the people of Cam- bridge held a celebration under this famous tree. For this occa- sion Lowell wrote the poem "Under the Old Elm" from which the section on Washington is here given. Soldier and statesman, rarest unison; High-poised ^ example of great duties done Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn As life's indifferent gifts to all men born; Dumb for himself, unless it were to God, But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent. Tramping the snow to coral ^ where they trod, Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content; Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed Save by the men his nobler temper shamed; Never seduced ^ through show of present good By other than unsetting lights to steer New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear; Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still In swerveless poise the wave-beat helm of will : Not honored then or now because he wooed The popular voice, but that he still withstood; Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one Who was all this and ours, and all men's, — Washington. James Russell Lowell. TOPIC FOR COMPOSITION Events in history that bear out this estimate of Washington. ^ High-poised. Dignified and calm. 2 Tramping the snow to coral. Many of the soldiers left foot- prints marked with blood wherever they trod. ^ Seduced. Led astray. 112 EIGHTH YEAR UNDER THE WILLOWS The Willows was a group of trees near Lowell's home at Elm- wood. The poet loved these trees and the birds that made their nests in the branches. Many beautiful thoughts came to him as he watched, and finally he wove them into a poem on spring and named it "Under the Willows." This poem opens with the following stanzas : Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood, Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree, June is the pearl of our New England year. Still a surprisal, though expected long, Her coming startles. Long she lies in wait. Makes many a feint, peeps forth, draws coyly back, Then, from some southern ambush in the sky, With one great gush of blossom storms the world. A week ago the sparrow was divine; The bluebird, shifting his light load of song From post to post along the cheerless fence, W^as as a rhymer ere the poet come; But now, oh rapture! sunshine winged and voiced. Pipe blown through by the warm wild breath of the West Shepherding his soft droves of fleecy cloud. Gladness of woods, skies, waters, all in one. The bobolink has come, and, like the soul Of the sweet season vocal in a bird. Gurgles in ecstasy w^e know not what Save June! Dear June! Now God be praised for June. May is a pious fraud of the almanac, A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern windi Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date. And, with her handful of anemones, Herself as shivery, steal into the sun. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 113 The season need but turn his hour-glass round, And winter suddenly, like crazy Lear,^ Reels back, and brings the dead May in his arms, Her budding breasts and wan dislustred front With frosty streaks and drifts of his white beard All overblown. Then, warmly walled with books, While my wood-fire supplies the sun's defect. Whispering old forest-sagas ^ in its dreams, I take my May down from the happy shelf Where perch the world's rare song-birds in a row. Waiting my choice to open with full breast. And beg an alms of spring-time, ne'er denied In-doors by vernal Chaucer,^ whose fresh woods Throb thick with merle ^ and mavis ^ all the year. July breathes hot, sallows the crispy fields. Curls up the wan leaves of the lilac-hedge. And every eve cheats us with show of clouds That braze ^ the horizon's western rim, or hang Motionless, with heaped canvas drooping idly, Like a dim fleet by starving men besieged. Conjectured half, and half descried afar, Helpless of wind, and seeming to slip back, Adown the smooth curve of the oily sea. 1 Crazy Lear. The hero of Shakespeare's tragedy " King Lear; " in the last act of the play the mad king enters with his dead daughter in his arms. 2 Forest-sagas. Legends or myths of the woods. ' Vernal Chaucer. Chaucer was fond of nature. The Pro- logue to his "Canterbury Tales" opens with a description of spring. Cf. Thomas Warton's estimate of Chaucer: "I consider Chau- cer as a genial day in an English spring." 4 Merle. Blackbird. * Mavis. Song thrush. ^ Braze. The clouds seem to braze or color like bronze the western sky. 114 EIGHTH YEAR But June is full of invitations sweet, Forth from the chimney's yawn and thrice-read tomes To leisurely delights and sauntering thoughts That brook no ceiling narrower than the blue. The cherry, drest for bridal, at my pane Brushes, then listens. Will he come? The bee, All dusty as a miller, takes his toll Of powdery gold, and grumbles. What a day To sun me and do nothing! Nay, I think Merely to bask and ripen is sometimes The student's wiser business; the brain That forages all climes to line its cells. Ranging both worlds on lightest wings of wish, Will not distil the juices it has sucked To the sweet substance of pellucid ^ thought, Except for him who hath the secret learned To mix his blood with sunshine, and to take The winds into his pulses. Hush! 'tis he! My oriole, my glance of summer fire,^ Is come at last, and, ever on the watch. Twitches the pack-thread I had lightly wound About the bough to help his housekeeping, — Twitches and scouts by turns, blessing his luck, Yet fearing me who laid it in his way, Nor, more than wiser we in our affairs. Divines the providence that hides and helps. Ream, ho! Heave, oh! he whistles as the twine Slackens its hold; once more, now! and a flash Lightens across the sunlight to the elm Where his mate dangles at her cup of felt.^ 1 Pellucid. Clear. 2 My glance of summer fire. Refers to the flame-colored breast of the oriole. 3 Cup of felt. The oriole builds a hanging nest of a gray, felt- like substance. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 115 Nor all his bootv is the thread ; he trails My loosened thought with it along the air, And I must follow, would I ever find The inward rhvnae to all this wealth of life. James Russell Lowell. TOPIC FOR COMPOSITION A comparison of Lowell's description of May, June and July with other descriptions of spring or summer. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP This is a true story of bravery and courage. The real hero, however, was a man instead of a boy. The storming of Ratisbon occurred in May, 1809, during Napoleon's campaign against Austria. You know, we French stormed Ratisbon : ^ A mile or so away. On a little mound. Napoleon Stood on our storming day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind. As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.^ Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans That soar, to earth may fall. Let once my army-leader Lannes ^ Waver at yonder wall," — Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound ^ Ratisbon. A town sixty-five miles north of Munich on the river Danube. 2 This description of Napoleon is said to bear resemblance to Haydon's portrait of Napoleon. 3 Lannes. One of Napoleon's most capable commanders. 116 EIGHTH YEAR Full galloping; nor* bridle drew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed. Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in tAvo. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon! The Marshal's ^ in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans ^ Where I, to heart's desire. Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire. The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes • A film the mother-eagle's eye ^ When her bruised eaglet breathes; "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride. Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside. Smiling, the boy fell dead. Robert Browning. 1 Marshal. General officer of highest rank. 2 Vans. Wings. The standard of Napoleon was an eagle. 3 The mother-eagle's eye. A fitting comparison. See note above. The name given to Rostand's play about Napoleon's son is VAiglon (The Eaglet). FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 117 TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Description of the opening scene. (See stanzas 1-2.) Description of the boy as he stood by his horse. Description of Napoleon. APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN * These stanzas are the closing lines of Canto IV, "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." In this poem B^Ton has described his wanderings over Europe. In Canto IV the poet describes Italy, taking his reader at last to the top of the Alban Hills for a view of the ocean. Then he ends the poem with '"The Apostrophe to the Ocean." There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; There is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but nature more. From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before. To mingle with the universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin; his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, Where, for a moment, like a drop of rain. He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncofRned, and unknown. His steps are not upon thy paths; thy fields Are not a spoil for him; thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise. 118 EIGHTH YEAR Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his gods, where haply ^ lies His petty hope in some near port or bay. And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay. The arm^aments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals. The oak leviathans,^ whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter ^ of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake. They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's ^ pride or spoils of Trafalgar.^ Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee: Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters washed them power while they were free And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou. Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play; Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, ^ Haply. By chance or accident. 2 Leviathans. Huge marine animals or monsters. Refers here to great ships. ^ Arbiter. One whose power of governing is not limited. * Armada. The famous Spanish fleet defeated by the English in 1588. 6 Trafalgar. The famous battle fought off Cape Trafalgar, on the southern coast of Spain, between the English fleet under Lord Nelson and the Spanish and French fleets. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 119 Calm or convulsed; in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime, — The image of Eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy I wantoned ^ with thv breakers — thev to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea ]\Iade them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee. And trusted to thv billows far and near. And laid my hand upon thy mane,^ — as I do here. Lord Byron. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS The impressions of the author given in the first stanza. Description of the ocean. (Material to be gained from expe- rience, from pictures or from imagination.) TO A SKYLARK Shelley is surpassed by none in his appreciation of beauty in all its forms and in his ability to convey beautiful sentiments in delicate language. This poem is a record of his thoughts as he watched the flight of a European skylark, a bird unkno^Ti here. The bird begins to sing as it leaves the earth for a flight into the air. So high does it soar and so sweet and clear is its song that it is ^ Wanton. To frolic or play without restraint. 2 Mane. Byron is comparing the curling foam on the waves to the mane of a horse. 120 EIGHTH YEAR no wonder that Shelley called it a "blithe spirit." The wonderful melody, the "rippling rhythm," of the poem expresses to a re- markable degree the music of the skylark's song and the fairy lightness of the bird itself. Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an embodied joy whose race is just begun. The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star of heaven In the broad daylight. Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere. Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear. Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud; FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 121 As, when night is bare From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see. As from thy presence rains a shower of melody — Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glow^'orm golden In a dell of dew. Scattering unbeholden ^ Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view : Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves. By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives JNIakes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. 1 Unbeholden. Without being seen. 122 EIGHTH YEAR Sound of vernal ^ showers On the twinkUng grass. Rain-awakened flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. Chorus hymeneal,^ Or triumphal chaunt, Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance ^ Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking or asleep. Thou of death must deem 1 Vernal. Spring. 2 Chorus hymeneal. Marriage song. ^ Joyance. Joy or gaiety. FOR APPRECIATIVE RE.U)ING 123 Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught: Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found. Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thv brain must know, Such harmonious madness • From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now. Percy Bysshe Shelley. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS The things Shelley thought most like the skylark. (See stanzas 2-12.) The evidence in the poem to show that Shelley was often sad, (See stanzas 16-21.) 124 EIGHTH YEAR Other bits of poetry that are especially musical. A comparison of the music of " The Skylark " with the solemn, majestic roll of the " Apostrophe to the Ocean." THE SINGING LEAVES A BALLAD I "WfiAT fairings ^ will ye that I bring?" Said the King to his daughters three; " For I to Vanity Fair ^ am boun, Now say what shall they be?" Then up and spake the eldest daughter, That lady tall and grand : " Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great, And gold rings for my hand." Thereafter spake the second daughter. That was both white and red: " For me bring silks that will stand alone, And a gold comb for my head." Then came the turn of the least daughter, That was whiter than thistle-down, And among the gold of her blithesome hair Dim shone the golden crown. "There came a bird this morning, And sang 'neath my bower eaves, Till I dreamed, as his music made me, ^Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.'" ^ Fairings. Presents. 2 Vanity Fair. A fair that was held in the town of Vanity in Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." See Psalm Ixii: 9. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 125 Then the brow of the King swelled crimson With a flush of angry scorn: "Well have ye spoken, my two eldest, And chosen as ye were born; "But she, like a thing of peasant race, That is happy binding the sheaves;" Then he saw her dead mother in her face, And said, "Thou shalt have thy leaves." II He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair, And 'twas easy to buy the gems and the silk. But no Singing Leaves were there. Then deep in the greenwood rode he, And asked of every tree, " Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf, I pray you give it me!" But the trees all kept their counsel, And never a word said they, Only there sighed from the pine-tops A music of seas far away. Only the pattering aspen Made a sound of growing rain. That fell ever faster and faster. Then faltered to silence again. "Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page That w^ould win both hose and shoon,^ 1 Shoon. Shoes. 126 EIGHTH YEAR And will bring to me the Singing Leaves If they grow under the moon?" Then lightly turned him Walter the page, By the stirrup as he ran: "Now pledge you me the truesome word Of a king and gentleman, "That you will give me the first, first thing You meet at your castle-gate, And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, Or mine be a traitor's fate." The King's head dropt upon his breast A moment, as it might be; 'Twill be my dog, he thought, and said, "My faith I plight to thee." Then Walter took from next his heart A- packet small and thin, "Now give you this to the Princess Anne, The Singing Leaves are therein." Ill As the King rode in at his castle-gate, A maiden to meet him ran. And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried Together, the Princess Anne. "Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he, "And woe, but thev cost me dear!" She took the packet, and the smile Deepened down beneath the tear. FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 127 It deepened down till it reached her heart, And then gushed up again, And lighted her tears as the sudden sun Transfigures the summer rain. And the first Leaf, when it was opened. Sang: "I am Walter the page. And the songs I sing 'neath thy window Are my only heritage." And the second Leaf sang: "But in the land That is neither on earth nor sea, Mv lute and 1 are lords of niore Than thrice this kingdom's fee." ^ And the third Leaf sang, "Be mine I Be mine!' And ever it sang, "Be mine!" Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter. And said, "I am thine, thine, thine!" At the first Leaf she grew pale enough, At the second she turned aside. At the third, 'twas as if a lily flushed With a rose's red heart's tide. "Good counsel gave the bird," said she, "I have my hope thrice o'er. For they sing to my very heart," she said, "And it sings to them evermore." She brought to him her beauty and truth, But and ^ broad earldoms three, 1 Kingdom's fee. The value of the Kmgdom. 2 But and. But also. 128 EIGHTH YEAR And he made her queen of the broader lands He held of his lute in fee. James Russell Lowell. TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS Imaginative descriptions of the three daughters. Characterization of the youngest daughter. Discussion of what is meant by " the broader lands He held of his lute in fee." MEMORY GEMS The secret of success is constancy to purpose. Disraeli. A THING of beauty is a joy forever; Its loveliness increases. It will never Pass into nothingness. Keats. Let us have faith that right makes might and in that faith let us dare to do our duty as we understand it. '^ Lincoln. One on God's side is a majority. Phillips. Truly there is a tide in the affairs of men; but there is no gulf stream setting forever in one direction. Lowell. We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on the dial. We should count time by heart throbs. 3 He most lives \\Tio thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Bailey. A LIFE spent worthily should be measured by a nobler line — by deeds, not years. Sheridan. 129 130 EIGHTH YEAR It matters not how a man dies, but how he Uves. "' Johnson. Books, Hke proverbs, receive their chief value from the stamp and esteem of ages through which they have passed. Temple. Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues. ^ Bishop Hall. Re.ading maketh a full man, conference a ready man and writing an exact man. ^ Bacon. This above all : to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, ^ Thou canst not then be false to any man. Shakespeare. Be just, and fear not; let all the ends thou aimest at, be thy country's, thy God's and truth's. Shakespeare. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord. Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something; nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. Shakespeare. The end and aim of education is development of char- acter. Parker. MEMORY GEMS 131 Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: The eternal years of God are hers; But error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers. Bryant. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mvsterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. Bryant. HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING OLD IRONSIDES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. » Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, . And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea! Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms. The lightning and the gale! Oliver Wendell Holmes. Francis Scott Key's "Star-Spangled Banner'^ is also included among the History Poems for Collateral Reading in the Eighth Year. See Selections for Memorizing, Seventh Year, page 5. 132 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES Robert Browning, an English poet, was born at Cam- berwell, a suburb of London, in 1812; died at Venice, Italy, in 1889. He was educated at the London University, and soon after, he produced "Paracelsus,'^ his first notable work. In 1846 he married Elizabeth Barrett and took up his residence in Italy. The titles of some of his principal vol- umes of poems are "Men and Women," "The Soul's Errand," "The Ring and the Book." Much of Browning's poetry is not easily read, for his style is obscure and he deals with psychological problems. He is, however, a great dramatic poet; "Pippa Passes" is the best example of this side of his art. He was also a vigorous writer of lyrics, of which the best known are " Herve Riel " and " The Lost Leader." "The Pied Piper of Hamelin " is already a classic for children. William Cullen Bryant was born among the hills of western Massachusetts in 1794. The precocity of his genius for poetry is the marvel of American literary annals. When verv voung he began to write verses and while a bov wished to be a poet. He wrote translations from some of the Latin poets at ten years of age. Before he was eighteen he composed "Thanatopsis," "not only the finest poem which had been produced on this continent, but one of the most re- markable poems ever produced at so early an age." Bryant was educated at Williams College and was ad- mitted to the bar in 1815, but he soon gave up the law and devoted himself to literature. In 1821 he delivered the annual poem at Harvard. This fine poem was entitled "The Ages," and not long afterward he published it, to- 133 134 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING gether with "Thanatopsis," "To a AYaterfowl," and a few others. Through the influence of friends which this Httle volume had won for him, he went to New York and was soon appointed editor of the Evening Post, a position he held for more than fifty years. Bryant was a poet of nature ; he loyed and wrote of the forest, the birds and the streams. All his work is of high order. He was a perfect master of English and his verse is dignified and simple. He died in New York at the age of eighty -four, widely known and honored. ^ George Gordon, Lord Byron, was born in 1788. He was handicapped in early life by a profligate father and a foolish, tempestuous mother. When he was eleven years old he succeeded to the title and after this he was sent to school. As might be expected, he was passionate and eccen- tric in disposition and misanthropic in spirit. The pos- session of a clubfoot added to his morbid sensitiveness. It is small wonder, then, that he failed to be on amiable terms with schoolmates or fellowmen. In 1809 a satirical poem, '' English Bards and Scotch Re- viewers," appeared anonymously. It satirized those critics who had previously reviewed Byron's " Hours of Idleness," his first volume of verse. So immediatelv successful was the anonymous attack, that a second edition was pub- lished with Byron's name attached. The same year the young poet left England for the continent, where he re- mained about two years. His wanderings are recorded in " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage " whose closing lines form the "Apostrophe to the Ocean." Byron's domestic life was unhappy, and such scandals about him were rife that he expatriated himself, spending much time in Italy. Here his radical satirical poem, " Don Juan," was produced. He became much interested in Greece's struggle for independence and in 1823 he volun- teered in the cause. While in camp he died from fever, April, 1824. His poetry is spirited, free and unconventional, fre- quently misanthropic and cynical. He exerted for a time BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 135 much influence on thought and style, both in England and on the continent. Lewis Carroll is the pen name of the Rev. Charles L. Dodgson, who was for many years a mathematical lecturer in Oxford University. Mr. Dodgson was born in 1833 and was educated for the ministry. He, is well known as the writer of nonsense verses. His wonder stories, "Through the Looking-glass" and "Alice in Wonderland," are among the best fairy stories in our language. He died in 1898. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American philosopher and poet, was born in Boston, May 25, 1803, and died at Concord, Mass., in 1882. He was descended from a long line of min- isters and was destined bv his father to follow the same profession. Emerson entered Harvard College at thirteen and after graduation taught for several years. In 1827 he became pastor of a Unitarian church in Boston where he preached for four years. He then resigned his charge and devoted the rest of his life to study and literary work. With Hawthorne, Thoreau, and others he belonged to the so- called " Concord School " of writers which has contributed largely to the literature of New England. While Emerson wrote poetry of a high order he is best known as an essayist and orator. Saxe Holm. See Helen Hunt Jackson. Oliver Wendell Holmes, one of the most original as well as one of the wittiest of American authors, was born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809, and died in 1894. While at Harvard College, where he received his education, he began to write both prose and poetry, contributing largely to the college paper. After he had finished his college course he began the study of law but soon turned from this to medicine, going to Europe for study and receiving his degree in 1836. He then became professor of anatomy in Harvard Medical College, remaining in this position for 136 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING many years. His first volume of poems was published in 1836 and contained "The Chambered Nautilus," "Old Ironsides," and the "Wonderful One-Hoss Shay." These three selections alone serve to give a clear conception of the variety of his style. Many of his poems are full of humor and some of them present a rare combination of humor and pathos. In 1857 he contributed to the Atlantic Monthly a series of essays entitled " The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." This was followed by other volumes of essays of a similar nature and commonly known as the " Break- fast Table Series." For genuine humor, wit, and literary finish these are unequalled in English literature. After their publication his highest fame was as a writer of prose. He wrote novels of which the best known is " Elsie Venner " and also wrote and lectured on subjects connected with the profession of medicine. Dr. Holmes was one of the renowned group of New England writers which included Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Hawthorne and Thoreau. Julia Ward Howe, an American poet and philanthropist, was born in New York City in 1819. She was an untiring worker with both tongue and pen, taking a prominent part in the so-called "woman's rights " movement. In 1861 she wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," while visiting the camp near Washington. Sung to the tune of "John Brown " it quickly became popular and remained so throughout the Civil War. She died in 1910. Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, an American novelist and poet, was born at Amherst, Mass., in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her verse is characterized by sympathy with all human joy and sorrow and deep feeling for the beauty and truth embodied in nature. Her best prose works are " A Century of Dishonor " and a fine romance of early Spanish and Indian life in Cali- fornia entitled "Ramona," in which the rights of the In- dians, towards whom she was always compassionate, are earnestly championed. She wrote occasionally under the pen name of " Saxe Holm." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 137 Francis Scott Key, the author of the popular national song "The Star-Spangled Banner," was born in Maryland in 1779 and died in 1843. He wrote a number of other poems but it is chiefly upon this one that his fame rests. RuDYARD Kipling, a vigorous and versatile English author, was born in Bombay, India, Dec. 3, 1865. He was educated in England and was editor of a military jour- nal in India, He has travelled extensively and many of his short stories picture life as he saw it in many lands. These stories and poems have been collected and published in several books, chief among which are "Departmental Ditties," " Plain Tales from the Hills" and " Soldiers Three." In these he has immortalized the British soldiers serving in India. Kipling has also written delightfullv for children in " The Jungle Book," " The Second Jungle Book" and " Puck of Book's Hill." His style is vigorous, fresh and forceful. The "Recessional" is his best known poem. Kipling married an American woman and has a home in Brattleboro, Vt., but spends much of his time in England. Andrew^ Lang, a British writer, was born at Selkirk, Scotland, in 1844. He was educated at St. x^ndrew's Uni- versity and Balliol College, Oxford. He wrote chiefly for periodicals, often contributing excellent essays on French literature, scientific and mythological subjects. Among his books are "Ballads in Blue China," "Helen of Troy," "Myth," "Ritual and Religion," "Grass of Parnassus," "My Own Fairy Book," "Essays in Little" and "Letters to Dead Authors." Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the Ignited States, was born in Hardin County, Kentucky, Feb. 12, 1809, and died at Washington, April 15, 1865. His boyhood was passed in poverty and amid hardships and he had no advantages for an education. In 1832 the Black Hawk War broke out, and Lincoln, then a young man of twenty- three, led a company of volunteers against the Indians. 138 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Two years later he was elected to the Illinois legislature. With no one to direct him in his study he obtained a meagre education through a careful perusal of the few books that came into his possession. It is said that after he had become prominent in public life and had served a term in Congress, feeling the need of a better education, he took up the study of geometry, history, literature and German. He kept up this study during his leisure hours outside of his profession, which was law, until he became absorbed in the anti-slavery struggle. He was unsuccessful as candidate for United States Senator from Illinois, but, in 1860, was elected President and was inaugurated March 4, 1861. When he entered upon the duties of this office he was comparatively unknown to a large section of the country, and his ability was mistrusted by many. It was a period of violent unrest, and the great Civil War which followed tested and tried him as no other Presi- dent of the United States has been tested and tried. It was largely due to his patience, sagacity and judgment that the Union was finally saved. Lincoln has not generally been classed as a man of letters, but his "Inaugural Addresses," "The Emancipation Proc- lamation " and the " Gettysburg Speech " are among the classics of American literature. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, an American poet, was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cambridge, Mass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bowdoin Col- lege in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the following year received the appointment of Professor of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater. He studied three years in Europe before taking up his duties. In 1835, hav- ing received an appointment in Harvard College, he moved to Cambridge and made his home there during the remainder of his life. He is, perhaps, the most popular of the Ameri- can poets, for the truth and simplicity of his sentiments and the gracefid manner in which they are expressed appeal to humanitv. In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," "Hiawatha" and "The Courtship of Miles Standisli," he has done much to immortalize in poetry incidents in Ameri- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 139 can history. Among his well-known shorter poems are "The Children's Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Village Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." James Russell Lowell was one of America's most dis- tinguished men of letters — poet, essayist, critic. He was born at Cambridge, Mass., Feb. 22, 1819, and spent his life there, with the exception of years spent in travel and study in Europe and the period of his residence abroad as American minister to Spain and England. His first literary work was poetry. Some of his finest poems are " The Har- vard Commemoration Ode," and that written under the Old Elm at Cambridge. His series of dialect poems, the " Big- low Papers," rank among the best of political satires. In direct contrast to these stands his "Vision of Sir Launfal," which is unsurpassed in exquisite workmanship and in lofty sentiment. Lowell's work shows power of thought and emo- tion. His themes are love, patriotism, religion, hope and truth. In his prose writings Lowell shows keen wit and humor, as well as power and strength, and as a critic he holds a foremost place. He was for many years connected with Harvard LTniversity; at the same time he edited the At- lantic Monthly and afterwards the North Amcricayi Revieio. Few men have been more thoroughly and proudly iVmerican than he, and through his diplomatic life abroad as well as through his writings he did much to make American letters and culture respected. He died Aug. 1, 1891, after a life of more than three- score and ten years, recognized everywhere as a man of broad culture and of noble character. Hamilton Wright Mabie was born at Cold Springs, N. Y., in 1845. After graduating from Wil lams College he became a journalist and is at present editor of the Outlook magazine. His essays are written in graceful and polished style and some of the more important are included in the volumes entitled "Books and Culture" and "My Study Fire." 140 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING Thomas Babington Macaulay, poet, essayist, historian, was born in 1800. He was an excellent student and won special honors at Cambridge. While still in college he be- gan writing, his first contribution to The Edinhurgh Review appearing in 1825. This was the famous " Essay on Milton." His style was distinctive and brilliant and won for him in- stant recognition. A year later he was admitted to the bar but he never be- came noted as a lawyer. He was, however, made president of a law commission for India and a member of the Council. During the time spent in India he wrote the '* Essay on Bacon." While there, too, he gained stores of material for other essays, namely, the " Essay on Clive " and the '^ Essay on Warren Hastings." " The Lays of Ancient Rome " fol- lowed the publication of the essays. The " History of England," however, is perhaps his best work. Macaulay 's place as an historian does not depend, though, on his accuracy or his judgment, but on the reality with which he pictures past events. He has a happy faculty of making the past pass before his reader's eyes, of giving it life and color, of making it romantic and attractive. In 1857 he was made a peer by Queen Victoria. Not long, however, was he to enjoy this honor and reward for his services, for two years later he died suddenly as he sat at work in his library. This was in London in 1859. He has been called the most versatile writer of the nineteenth century. CiNCiNNATUS Heine Miller, who ^vrote under the name of " Joaquin Miller," was born in Wabash District, Ind., in 1841. He spent his early years in the mining camps of Cali- fornia and lived for some years among the Indians of Oregon. His first volume of poems was published in England and attracted much attention. He afterwards returned to this country and lived in Washington and California. Some of his books of verse are "Songs of the Sierras," "Songs of the Sunlands," "Songs of Italy" and "Collected Poems." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 141 John Pierpont, an American clergyman and poet, was born at Litchfield, Conn., in 1785; died at Medford, Mass., in 1866.- He was graduated from Yale in 1804, In 1816 he published " The Airs of Palestine." Most of his poems were written for special occasions. James Whitcomb Riley, an American dialect writer, was born at Greenfield, Ind., in 1854. His education was carried on irregularly. He was at one time a sign painter and after that joined a company of strolling pla^^ers, be- coming both actor and author. He made his first ap- pearance as a poet in 1882, when some of his verses were published in the Indianapolis Journal. He has the gift of writing about things of everyday life in an unusual way and his quaint poems of country life are full of true humor and genuine poetry. His books include " The Old Swimmin' Hole, and 'Leven More Poems," "Afterwhiles," "An Old Sweetheart of Mine " and " Poems Here at Home." Sir Walter Scott, a famous Scottish poet, novelist, and historian was born at Edinburgh in 1771; died at Abbotts- ford in 1832. After studying at the Edinburgh High School and University he entered his father's law office and was admitted to the bar in 1792. He afterwards abandoned the law and devoted himself to literarv work. In 1820 he was made a baronet by George IV. " The Lay of the Last Min- strel," "Marmion" and "The Lady of the Lake," are his best known poems. Among his novels, largelv historical, are "Waverlev," "Guy Mannering," "Rob Rov," "Ivan- hoe," "Kenilworth," "The Talisman" and "The Heart of Midlothian." William Shakespeare, the greatest of English drama- tists, was born at Stratford-on-x\von in 1564; died there in 1616.. When twenty- three years of age Shakespeare left Stratford for London and soon became connected with the Metropolitan theatre as playwright. Shakespeare's dramas 142 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING number thirty-seven ; only about a dozen were printed dur- ing his Hfetime. The entire plays were published in 1623, seven years after his death. Although his dramas overshadow his other writings, yet Shakespeare holds a high place among the great* English poets as a writer of sonnets and other poems. All of his work is of high order, but "The Merchant of Venice," "Julius Caesar," "As You Like It" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream " are perhaps best fitted for young people's reading. Percy Bysshe Shelley was born in Sussex, England, in 1792. Even when a child he displayed a remarkable imag- inative faculty. He was sensitive, passionate and radical in his beliefs, and soon after his entrance at Oxford Uni- versity he published a little pamphlet on " The Necessity of Atheism." For this he was expelled from the university. Two years later he published his first long poem, " Queen Mab," followed later by "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," and " The Revolt of Islam." The poet then left England for Itah\ The opposition of the English people to his views and the attitude towards his domestic life were the chief reasons for his exile. In Italy were written some of the most beau- tiful of his lyrics, among them " To a Skylark." To this period, also, belongs his masterpiece, the drama of ''Pro- metheus Unbound." The death of Keats moved Shelley to write the *' Adonais" which is known as one of the most beautiful elegies in literature. In 1822 Shelley, returning in his yacht from a visit to Leigh Hunt, was drowned during a sudden storm off the coast of Italy. In delicacy of treatment, in lyrical faculty, in idealism and imaginative power, Shelley is perhaps surpassed by none and equalled only by Shakespeare and Milton. He lacked balance and judgment, however. In his poems is often to be found a note of sadness, a pensive melancholy. Robert Louis Stevenson, a Scottish novelist, essayist and poet, was born at Edinburgh, in 1850; died at Apia, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES .143 Samoa, in 1894. He received his education at Cambridge, studied law and was admitted to the bar. He began his Hterary career by contributing to magazines. In 1879 he came to America and crossed the continent in an emigrant car. In his prose writings he combines powers of imagina- tion and an unsurpassed faculty of telling a story with a finished and polished style. His poems of childhood show an unerring and sympathetic knowledge of child nature. Of his many novels '' Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " is the most widely known. Some of his other works are " Treasure Island," "Kidnapped," "Prince Otto," "The Wrecker," "Underwoods," ''Across the Plains" and "A Child's Garden of Verse." Bayard Taylor, an American novelist and poet, was born in Kennett Square, near Philadelphia, Pa., in 1825, and died in Berlin, Germany, in 1878. He received only a high school education but while a young man he travelled extensively in Europe, paying his expenses by writing a series of sketches for the New York newspapers. These were afterward collected under the title "Views Afoot, or Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff." Among his novels are "Hannah Thurston," "John Godfrey's Fortunes" and "The Story of Kennett." His books of poetry, by which he is perhaps best known, include "The Masque of the Gods " and " Lars, a Pastoral of Norway." His most valuable work in verse was a translation of Goethe's "Faust." Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at Aid- worth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1850 he was appointed Poet Laureate of England through Prince Albert's admiration for " In Memoriam." He was buried near Chaucer in the Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of the King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "Locksley Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of poetic genius 144 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING and all of them are finished and artistic. This is especially true of his lyrics, such as the " Bugle Song " and the " Cradle Song." William Makepeace Thackeray, a celebrated English novelist, was born in Calcutta, India, July 18, 1811, and died in London, Dec. 24, 1863. He was sent to England to be educated and spent some years in Trinity College, Cam- bridge, but never graduated. He studied art in Rome and Paris and read law for a time. After the loss of his modest fortune he began to devote himself to literature. He gained a reputation as a satirist, essayist and writer of verse, and in all of his writings he made clever hits at the fashionable follies and foibles of the time. For many years he wrote for Punch and in 1847 published "Vanity Fair," the first of his five great novels. This novel immediately brought him fame and placed him in the first rank as a novelist. He re- garded " Henry Esmond " as his best work, but many other critics prefer "The Newcomes." "The Virginians" deals with colonial life in America and gives an excellent picture of Washington and Wolfe. Henry Van Dyke was born at Germantown, Pa., in 1852, and was educated at Princeton and at the University of Berlin. He has held important pastorates in the Presbyterian Church and is now connected with Princeton University. Aside from writings of a distinctly religious character, he has produced a number of poems and short stories. Two volumes of the latter, "Little Rivers" and "Fisherman's Luck," are a series of charming papers descriptive of the author's fishing excursions in picturesque places. Walt Whitman, an American poet, was born at West Hills, Long Island, May 31, 1819; died at Camden, N. J., March 26, 1892. He was educated in the public schools of Brooklyn and New York. "Leaves of Grass," published in 1855, was his first noteworthy work. He wrote poems for BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 145 periodicals, some of which have been collected into vol- umes. Among these are " Drum Taps," " Specimen Days and Collect" and "Good-bye, My Fancy." His most beautiful poem is "O Captain! My Captain!" written after the assassination of Lincoln. INDEX BY TITLES PAGE Angler's Reveille, The . Van Dyke 70 Apostrophe to the Ocean Byron 117 Arrow and the Song, The Longfellow 7 At Morning Stevenson 67 Autumn Longfellow 9 Battle Hymn of the Re- public Howe 61 Breathes There a Man WITH Soul so Dead . Scott 66 Bugle Song Tennyson 69 Chambered Nautilus, The Holmes 4 Columbus Miller 11 Concord Hymn ...... Emerson 56 Farewell! A Long Fare- well TO ALL MY Great- ness Shakespeare 15 Finding of the Lyre, The Lowell 10 Gettysburg Address . . . Lincoln 63 Herve Riel Browning '35 HoRATius Macaulay 80 How They Brought the Good News from Ghent TO Aix Browning 32 Incident of the French Camp Browning ........ 115 IvRY Macaulay 42 Jog on. Jog on Shakespeare 16 Morning Song, A .... Shakespeare 66 147 148. INDEX BY TITLES PAGE Name of Old Glory, The . Riley 13 O Captain! My Captain! WMtman 72 Old Ironsides Holmes 132 On Books Mabie 64 On Books Mabie 65 Paul Revere's Ride . . . Longfellow 52 Pied Piper of Hajmelin, The . Browning 21 Pocahontas Thackeray 51 Recessional Kipling 62 Rhcecus Lowell 105 • Scythe Song Lang 7 Singing Lea\^s, The . . . Lowell 124 Sir Galahad Tenn3^son 17 Skeleton in Armor, The . Longfellow 74 Song of Clover, A . . . . Jackson ("Saxe Holm") . . 14 Song of Lo^^3, A Carroll 3 Song of Marion's Men . . Bryant 58 Song of the Camp .... Taylor 67 Spring Longfellow 8 Star-Spangled Banner, The Key 5 Summer Longfellow 8 To A Skylark Shelley 119 Under the Old Elm . . . Lowell Ill Under the Willows . . . Lowell 112 Visit from the Sea, A . . Stevenson 17 Warren's Address to the American Soldiers . . Pierpont 57 Winter Longfellow 10 INDEX BY AUTHORS PAGE Browning, Robert .... Herve Riel 35 How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix 32 Incident of the French Camp 115 Pied Piper of Hamehn, The 21 Bryant, William Cullen . Song of Marion's Men . . 58 Byron, George Gordon, Lord Apostrophe to the Ocean . 117 Carroll, Lewis Song of Love, A 3 Emerson, Ralph Waldo . Concord Hymn 56 Holmes, Oliver Wendell . Chambered Nautihis, The . 4 Old Ironsides 132 Howe, Julia Ward .... Battle Hymn of the Re- pubhc 61 Jackson, Helen Hunt, "Saxe Holm" .... Song of Clover, A . . . . 14 Key, Francis Scott . . . Star-Spangled Banner, The 5 Kipling, Rudyard .... Recessional 62 Lang, Andrew Scythe Song . . -. . , . . 7 Lincoln, Abraham .... Gettysburg Address 7" . . 63 Longfellow, Henry Wads- worth Arrow and the Song, The . 7 * Autumn 9 Paul Revere's Ride .... 52 Skeleton in Armor, The . . 74 Spring 8 Summer 8 Winter 10 149 150 INDEX BY AUTHORS PAGE Lowell, James Russell Finding of the Lyre, The . 10 Rhoecus 105 Singing Leaves, The . . . 124 Under the Old Elm .... Ill Under the Willows .... 112 Mabie, Hamilton Wright . On Books On Books Macaulay, Thomas Bab- iNGTON Horatius Iviy . . Miller, Cincinnatus Heine, ''Joaquin" Columbus PiERPONT, John Warren's Address to the American Soldiers .... Riley, James Whitcomb "Saxe Holm" Scott, Sir Walter . . . Shakespeare; William . Shelley, Percy Bysshe . Stevenson, Robert Louis Name of Old Glory, The 64 65 80 42 11 57 13 Taylor, Bayard Tennyson, Alfred, Lord . Thackeray, William Make- peace Van Dyke, Henry . . . . Whitman, Walt See Jackson, Helen Hunt . Breathes There a Man with Soul so Dead 66 Farewell! A Long Farewell to all my Greatness ... 15 Jog on. Jog on 16 Morning Song, A 66 To a Skylark 119 At Morning 67 Visit from the Sea, A . . . 17 Song of the Camp .... 67 Bugle Song 69 Sir Galahad ■ . . 17 Pocahontas 51 Angler's Reveille, The ... 70 O Captain! My Captam! . 72 RETURN TO the circulation desk of any University of California Library or to the NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY University of California Richmond Field Station, BIdg. 400 1301 South 46th Street Richmond, CA 94804-4698 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS To renew or recharge your library materials, you may contact NRLF 4 days prior to due date at (510) 642-6233 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW AUG 3 20D? DD20 12M 7-06 ORM NO. DDO, 5m, 12/80 BERKELEY, CA 94720 ®$ I YB 37014 ■\ 575811 'A UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 1 ( -f t