5454 I ■ A = :^=^ ■ A^ r ■ m _^_ 5 u = -^— ^ 1 m 3 m ^^^ ^ ■ 7 = ^^= > 1 5 m ^^= t: ^^^ ^ b = ■ s ■ 6 1 ■ 3 = /A^£:5 BY L.C.S. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES M<- liib THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES LINES BV L C. S. LINES BY L. C. S. Bishop Pkinck's Place, Bkighton. 1883. Entcrrd al Slalioiwrs' Hal/. All RuiMs Reserred. To those who knew the beloved writer of the followitig Poenis^ no word need be said, for this little volume will receive at their hands an eager welcome; and, to all who had not that privilege, it is yet earnestly hoped that it may brittg a " word in season;" for she ^'' being dead, yet speaketh." C. IV. Brighton. August. iSSj. "|£oD£ is of ©ob. )> 822381 NOT ALONE! /COMPANIONS fair had I, while, as a child, I danced alon^^ the smooth ascent to youth, — Light-footed Joy, brave Hope, and Fancy wild, ^Vith wondrous fairy tales, all told for truth. Love too was near, and came at every call, Flung kisses and fund words to great and small : But of Love's nature then I scarce took note at all. Companions these, along youth's level way, Hope, now the dearest, never left my side — But Joy and Fancy would not always stay, And Love, drawn closer, proved with pain allied : No longer gave she freely as of yore, But set a price upon her priceless store. And, e'en wiien best repaid, in secret pined lor mure. B Companions still are these, although I find The path grow narrow as my steps descend ; Joy, Hope, and Fancy sometimes lag behind — Let them ! so Love keep by me to the end ! Love changed and chasten'd — careless grown of sway, Careless how any prize her or repay ; Caring for this alone — to give herself away ! From ''Good Words:' Sept., 1870 UNDER THE PALMS. T. T EI) on — not driven by mere outward force ; Led on — not drifting at my own weak will ; For falt'ring footsteps, an appointed course, For nerveless grasp, a Hand firm holding still. Led on — past childhood's easy, grassy ways, Past youth's glad scaling of a flower-fringed steep, Past plans and failures of less sanguine da-ys, Past graves, where I had thought to stay and weep. Led on ; but hcjw ? I stumble as I go. Led on ; but whitlicr? clouds seem all I see. My trust, a purpose higher tiian I know, My hope, a goal yet undescried by me. Oh, friends ! if loved ones love me to the last, And deem earth sadder for that I am gone, Think not too much of the dim track I've passed, Think still of me as but led ow—led on / January jjsf, iSog. Brighton. ■miS II. T N the band of noble workers Seems no place for such as I ; They have faith where I have yearning, They can teach where I but sigh ; They can point the road distinctly, Where for me the shadows lie. Lofty purpose, high endeavour, These are not ordained for me ; Wayside flower may strive its utmost, It can ne'er become a tree, — Yet a child may laugh to gather, And a sick man smile to see. And I, too, in God's creation, Have my little proper |jart ; He must mean some service surely For weak hand and timid heart, Transient joys for my diffusing, For my healing, transient smart. Just to fling a ray of comfort O'er life's downcast, dreary ways ! Just to fan a better impulse By a full and ready praise ; Pitying where I may not succour, Loving where I cannot raise ! February 4th, i86g. Brighton. III. YYTHY would you have me dwell on death, Rehearse the awful parting hour, The creeping chill, the ebbing power, The gasping for the latest breath ? Why vex a child 'neath noon-tide sky With image of his nightly rest ? Just now his games, his toys, seem best — He will be weary by and bye ! Just now a hand is linked in mine : Just now thought flashes far and free ; I joy in everything T see ; I call this God-made world Divine ! Wait— till night fall at His behest, Wait — till He hush to sleep through pain, Wait — till He show me Death is gain, And give the longing, with the power to rest. February 4th, iS6g. IV. IVI OT my will, gracious Lord, Not my blind will and wayward be fulfilled ! I dare not say that, bowing to Thy word, All my heart's wishes are subdued and stilled. My will might crave some boon by Thee denied. Covet the praise that ministers to pride. Shrink back from taking up a needed cross, And shun the furnace to retain the dross. Not my will, O my Lord. No — be Thy name adored ! Though too much to the dust affection clings, And self-wrought chains hold down the spirit's wings ; Yet, out of sorrows past and present fears. Out of experience bought by loss and tears. At least the breathing of one prayer I've won, Not my will, Father, but Thy will be done. Dolhyfryd. From " Good Words." i86g. A GIRL'S FAITH. "Vj O two leaves above us waving Are quite like in form and hue, No two flowers in equal measure Hold the blessing of the dew, — Nothing is on earth repeated, All is special, all is new. So of all the hosts of lovers, Now and in the days of yore, Loving deeply, loving lightly. Loving less, or loving more, None have loved — I hold it ccrtain- Quite as you and I before ! lO Hearts have heat, hut not as ours' did When this hope upon us broke ; All our former life mere dreaming, Till to consciousness we woke In a world anew created, By a little word each spoke. Not as ours ! for that was needed, What belongs to us alone ; Just the years we two have counted, Just the sorrows we have known, Just your strength, and just my weakness — Love ! our love is all our own ! Written for C ,Jiine, i86g. From " Good Words." December^ i86g. II A WIFE'S WONDER. T F I liad never met thee, my beloved, As in this world, where so much waste is seen, Or seeming waste, might easily have been, I wonder what my nature would have proved ! I am so much thy work ; thy thoughts rule mine. Give them direction, lift from what is low ; What grasp or play of mind I have, I owe To the strong happiness of being thine. I catch thy tastes, enjoy what pleases thee, Learn what is beautiful from thy delight, Wait on thy choosing to decide aright ; 'Tis but thy shadow any praise in me. 12 To love, to pity, to forgive witii ease, In others' hopes and fears to claim a part — Are but the o'erflow of a blissful heart, And having thee^ how should I fail in these ? If thou shouldst leave me ! — in that utter woe I wonder what of life could still be mine ! Would mind be quench'd, and heart grow cold with thine ? O God ! forbid that ever I should know ! Bude. From " Good Words." Decemder, i86g. ^ ^Pv 13 THE WEDDING RING. T CLIMBED the hill, and looked around— The prospect stretched out wide ; Green vales, rich woods, and shining sea — Beauty on every side ! So fair, so far, so boundless all ! My spirit was oppressed ; My glance roamed round, now here, now there, And knew not where to rest. Then from my linger, half in play. My wedding ring I drew ; And through that golden circlet small Looked out upon the view. 14 I saw a wreath of cottage smoke, A church spire rising by, A river wind thro' sheltering trees, Above — a reach of sky. This httle picture 1 had made Both cheered and cahii'd my soul ; True, I saw less, but what I saw Was dearer than the wliole. More vivid lights, more solemn shades, Such limits seemed to bring ; — My portion of the world be still Framed by my wedding ring ! January, 1867. Suggested by lines of Griin. 15 T T does not show much in the hair, I allow, Nor does it perhaps very much in the brow ; But it shows, ah : of course, it must show in the skin, Tho' it shows not at all in the feelings within ; And it shows in the teeth which are no longer white, And it shows in the eyes which are losing their light ; It shows in the waist which is no longer small, It shows in the shoulders e'en seen thro' a shawl ! It shows in the lines round the lips that begin — And it shows— oh ! ye pow'rs. lunv it shows in the chin ! What shows ? Never mind : there's no need to explain ; All see it — he sees it, will see it again : But he never has said it, that true heart of gold ; And so long as his arms his beloved one enfold. So happy a creature can never be old ! i6 WHAT IVAS. r^NLY a burst of sunlight, To shine through a budding tree, Only leaf-stars on the noon-tide blue, Yet a thrill of ecstasy I And this is the spell works such wonders, beloved- 'Tis the eyes of izvo that see. Only the fire-light flicker On our plain green walls at play ; And we, vvell shut in by storm without, At close of our third wet day. " Can comfort, can cheeriness, go beyond this ? " So /wo happy voices say. 17 Only the same sweet life — Nothing startling, strange, and new ; But we find fresh meaninar and delight In the smallest thing we do ; And the secret of this we have long agreed Is that everything's done by two. i8 WHAT IS. /^NE lonely creature dragging thro' her life, Weeks long as months, and months stretched out to years, Waging with sorrow an unending strife, Counting for sweetest solace, unchecked tears ; All impulse, energy, and motive gone, Nothing on earth to call or feel her own, Nothing worth doing, since 'tis done alone. This is the lot of one of that glad two ! The other's lot— but hope grows voiceless here, Though ever straining for some nearer view Of Ais high being in that " further sphere ;" And pressing to her heart, thro' sharpest pain, The thought that /ie for all his present gain, Waits for the hour will make them iwo again. 19 "IX/T Y sorrow is my throne ! It lifts me from the dust of earthly care ; 'Tis calm and peaceful, though so cold and lone — And wider prospects stretch before me there. My sorrow is my crown ! A glory round the worn and aching brow ; 1 would not lay its thorny circlet down For any flowers earth has to offer now. Yet sometimes I could deem I heard his voice, loved voice that guides me, say, " The earth we loved must never trivial seem, Although our joy has passed from earth away." " Go down, at my behest, The smallest, humblest, kindly task to do; /see the thorn-prints ; hide them from the rest ; Because thou lov'st mc so, — love others too." Edinburgh, jSjj. 20 ALL MY DESIRE! A LL I would wish from my loved one to hide, Take Thou away, Lord, take Thou away ; Meanness of jealousy, madness of pride, Take Thou away ! All I would be in that cherished one's sight. Make me to be, Lord, make me to be ; Faithful and loving, and true to the light, Make me to be ! Just as he lived, free from blame before all, Grant me to live, Lord, grant me to live ; Loyal to duty, whatever befall, Grant me to live ! Just as he died, on the heart he held dear, Give me to die. Lord, give me to die ; Meek, patient, calm — without shadow of fear, Give me to die ! 21 C WEET, you were very far above me here, And yet you loved me in those by-gone days ! Not only fostering by your smile's bright praise Such germs of good as might in me appear ; But, with large insight, also holding dear My native, untaught, and impetuous ways. Now you are higher still ; oh ! would you raise Me if you might, to share your " further sphere ? " My only loved / I sometimes dare to think Such boundless joy would make me worthy thee, That from thy side I should not fail or sink, Knowing thee happier thro' sustaining me. Grow, blessed thought, grow strong ! then on the brink Of death, at least, I shall be anguish free. 22 A S men born blind must ponder upon li,s:ht, Deaf men on sound, though pondering seems vain ; Since only seeing tells the joy of sight. And hearing only music can explain ; So I, beloved, must needs my spirit strain — Long as endures life's dark and silent night — Some image of a future bliss to gain. Knowledge will widen,— that must mean, for thee, God clearer seen in all His power has wrought ; And oh ! my thinker, still more bold and free The range and energy of ceaseless thought. High hopes are these ; but yet, for one like me, A simple image, with past rapture fraught. Seems best to shadow forth what heaven may be. 23 Our life had days and years most glad and fair, Yet one joy thrills me still all joys above, Because it rose on an almost despair — We two were parted ; should we meet ? Oh ! Love, I did not dare expect you, — You were there I That says it all ; and dying may but prove A like surprise, and give me strength to bear. Dunkeld. Sepfonber soth, iSy^. 24 " Immortality is a great hope, but a dim conception." W. S. "pROM the still sphere where dwells my highest hope, Stand off, I pray you, nor disturb the air ! Lest, while you boast it living, it should die, And I lose all, whose all is centred there. Bring me no argument, no reasoned proof; How if their weakness cloud that sacred trust ? Leave it to God alone to mark its growth And keep it deathless — till I turn to dust. Nor is this all — though more I dare not say, — Words would but marshal thoughts to endless strife ; Enough, if, cherished in my being's core, The silent hope may mould the lowly life. Patterdale. December igth, i8']g. 25 VyONDROUS head of some unknown departed, Caught by Art three hundred years ago — ■ Man so sad and yet so tender-hearted — This, at least, of thee we surely know, That the strain of unremitting thinking Furrowed on thy brow those lines of pain ; That a love from no self-torture shrinking Smiled a sweet acceptance of that strain. Like, all tell me, to my one, my only, — Brother-souled I willingly agree, — But my worship made that one less lonely, Nameless thinker, than thou seem'st to me. Both have passed — one woman's heart left riven, — Both brave seekers now have gone up higher — Found the truth— their spirits' only heav'n, Found in God — their infinite desire. 26 THE WAITING ROOM. TJOW well within the reach of all Life's precious things indeed ! The kindly word, the oifering small, The slight, spontaneous deed. What " New Year gift " could leave behind A sweeter trace than this — A sudden impulse, good and kind, A country-woman's kiss? The words exchanged were very few, Mere simple talk, no more ; But each one's heart the other knew, A common garb we wore. Her train came first, she took my hand, Held fast, and, saying this — " We'll meet no more on earth," she gave A widow-woman's kiss ! 27 " Diversely in many ways." T IGHT the candles one by one, God's great work is but begun ; Some were lighted long ago, Caught at once the sacred glow ; Others still unlighted stand, Out of reach of mortal hand ; Faculties undreamt of still. Vaster knowledge, purer will. These our faith may surely deem Meant to catch the heavenly beam ; When these kindle on their height, Wide indeed the spread of light ! In the glory then displayed Lights now prized may seem to fade ; 28 Let not this our hearts dismay, One the source and one the ray. " Diverse," but in i)lace and name, One the purpose of each flame ; Light the candles, one by one, God shall end what God begun. St. Mary's, Edinburgh, Christinas Day., 1880. 29 " DIVERSITIES OF GIFTS." A S I wandered on the hill-side, Where the wild flowers spread and blow, How I loved their simple faces, For the grace that each could show ; Never asking for a likeness. As they were— I praised them so — Some for beauty, some for fragrance, Some for whiteness, some for glow. Oh, ye human flow'rs around me, I for you would feel the same ! Note each special gift for praising, Not each lack of gift for blame ; 3° Praise and own the pomp of colour, Scentless tho' the blossom flame, — Own and love the lowliest leaflets That the gift of fragrance claim. And the stunted growths among you, Scanty blossom, stem awry ; Whether soil or season's doing, Tenderly I'll pass them by. One sure proof they give of kin-ship — Like the best, they fade and die ! Who can tell ? some other summer With their beauty these may vie. Patterdale. 31 " Seekest thou Great Things ? Seek them not." T ITTLE rill of the mountain side, cushioned with moss, Little rill that a baby's step safely might cross ; If I sit down beside you and listen for long, I can just catch a gurgle, a tinkle, a song. Grow distinct tho' so fairy faint — almost 'twould seem Like an echo of music once heard in a dream. Little rill, not far from you a stronger stream falls Sheer down to the valley through steep rocky walls ; ^Vith a rapture of sound and a splendour of foam, It bids its farewell to its lone early home ; And you, if you only could leach it, migln blend With its triumph, its darmg, its course, and its end. 32 But I think, little rill, you will scarce get so far, For the mosses half choke you up here where you are ; And beyond I can see that the rushes grow high. With their roots in a marsh and their stems stiff and dry. They will ?ieed and exhaust yoj(, you poor little rill, You will end there unnoticed, your song will be still. Never mind, little rill, moss and rushes will grow All the greener and stronger because of your flow ; And your cool, quiet current, tho' mostly unheard. May yield draughts of fresh strength to some wing- weary bird ; And, whene'er for a brief space unshadowed you run. You can catch and give back the warm glints of the sun. And the strong stream you hear — tho' it cannot hear you — Is born just as you are — from rainfall and dew; 33 And, for all its importance, its foam and its roar, You are closely akin — 'tis not other, but more. Nay — is there indeed any great, any small, In the sight of the Infinite Source uf us all ? From " Day of Rest:' July, iSjg. " V 34 " Deep streams run still,- -and why ? Not because there are no obstructions, but because they altogether overflow those stones or rocks round which the shallow stream has to make its noisy way ; 'tis the full life that saves us from the little noisy troubles of life." — W. h. ECHOES. T^EEP the stream and silent- Scarce I hear its flow — What a noise its current Made few days ago ! Round the stones it fretted On its shallow way — Babbling in vexation Over each delay. Came the heavy rainfall, Swelled the river's might — Now its stony troubles Are unheeded quite. So, when our complaining Tells of constant strife With some moveless hindrance In our path of life ; What we need is only Fullness of our own — If the current deepen. Never mind the stone ! Let the fuller nature Flow its mass above, Cover it with pity, Cover it with love. 36 " To love is the great glory, the last culture, the highest happiness ; to be loved is little in comparison." " GravenhurstP William Smith. THE MORE EXCELLENT WAY. 'Y'ES, the love that we get is a joy and a power — 'Tis as rain to the deep-thirsting root ; As the stm-light to open and colour the flower ; x\s the sun-warmth to ripen the fruit. We will hail it and prize it so long as we live ; But the life of the soul is the love that we give. If the root underground be worm-stricken and dry, If the flower have all withered away— 37 What avails that the soft rain still falls from the sky Or bright sun-beams be still at their play ? But from darkness and drought we may suffer, yet live ; For the life of the soul is the love that we give. From the '' Day of RestP 38 MOODS. J^ORD, in Thy sky of blue, No stain of cloud appears ; Gone all my faithless fears, Only Thy Love seems true. Help me to thank Tliee, then, I pray, Walk in the light and cheerfully obey ! Lord, when I look on high, Clouds only meet my sight ; Fears deepen with the night ; But yet it is Thy sky. Help me to trust Thee, then, I pray, Wait in the dark and tearfully obey. Bude. i86g. 39 CLOUDS. A CLOUD upon the sky '. Flowers close tlieir cups, the butterfly his wing, The restless birds cease all at once to sing, The shiv'ring leaves foretell a shower is nigh. Let the grey evening darken into night ! To-morrow's sun will only shine more bright, — Such clouds as this pass by I A cloud upon the brow ! A palsy of the thoughts so free before, A sense of effort never known of yore, A sudden change 'twixt yesterday and now. If we would scan it, it eludes the sight, And yet our spirits own its subtle might. Will this cloud pass, and how ? 4° A cloud upon the heart ! What pleased so late has lost its charm to-day ; The trust undoubting seems misplaced and bold, The kindly words sound distant, stiff, and cold ; The form remains, the life has pass'd away, Each shrouded spirit acts its former part. Smile still meets smile, but heart is far from heart. Will this cloud e'er depart ? What brought the clouds we mourn ? Was it some truth out-spoken, love should hide ? Some want of reverence in a playful mood — Some thought confided and not understood— Some chill to feeling, or some shock to pride '! Enough— they're risen— grief and tears are vain. After the darkness and the bursts of rain, Such clouds as these return ! 41 A SUDDEN storm has swept our summer bowers, The grass is snow-flaked with the blossoms shed ; We deem the wind that ravaged thus the flowers Must needs have struck the marring weed-growth dead. Alas ! the fragrant and the fair are gone; We mourn their loss — but still the weeds live on ! The storm of sorrow o'er our hearts has swept, Our life is wither'd, and our hopes are slain ; We think the bitter tears that we have wept Must needs have wash'd away the spirit's stain, — That selfish jealousy and haughty pride, Wiiih better, brighter things, have surely died. 42 That henceforth what of chasten'd love we own Shall all divine in aim and nature be, Without an earthly hope to drag it down, Mighty to soar on high, serene and free ; No shadow cast by self to darken there — A quiet sympathy- a constant pray'r. Alas, the weeds the storm has spared ! the while It laid our fragrance and our beauty low ; The day is dark, unlighted by a smile, The hours, unmark'd by word of fondness, slow. The heart's insatiate still, though sad and lorn, — The storm that marr'd the flower has left the thorn ! 5*i 43 A FACT. TT was on an E:nglish summer day, Some six or seven years ago, That a pointsman before his cabin paced With a listless step and slow. He lit liis pipe — there was plenty of time — In his work was nothing new : Just to watch the signals and shift the points When the next train came in view. He leant 'gainst his cabin, and smoked away, — He was used to lounge and wait ; Twelve hours at a stretch he must mind those points, And down trains were mostly late ! 44 A rumble — a roar — " She is coming now — She's truer to time to-day !" He turns, — and, not far off, between the rails, Sees his youngest boy at play ! Not far, but too far. The train is at hand, And the child is crawling there, And patting the ground with crows of delight — And not a moment to spare ! His face was dead white, but his purpose firm, As straight to his post he trod. And shifted the points, and saved the down train, And trusted his child to God ! There's a rush in his ears, though the train has passed ; He gropes, for he cannot see, To the place where the laughing baby crawled. Where the mangled limbs must be. 45 But he hears a cry that is only of fear- His joy seems too great to bear, For his duty done, God saw to his son- The train had not touched a hair I From " Good Word^P May, 1S71. 46 TO C . Christmas, 1878. gWEET fervent soul — so warm, so bright, So prompt with smile or tear ; Worthy all love — but in my sight Thro' love of him most dear. No other thought, no other name, My deepest feelings wake — Nor would I urge another claim, Than " Love me for his sake !" 47 TO M . Christmas, iSSo, A/TY almoat child from far-off days, One thing I wish you good and new, " The giftie," in the poet's phrase, " To see yoursel' as others see you." For I have marked your spirits fall, From taking quite a private view — When you — who else are just to all, Wont " see yoursel' as others see you." Oh sweet flower-face, believe our gaze — Leal heart, quick wit, accept your due — Truth still is true in garb of praise, Just " see yoursel' as others see you." 48 CHRISTMAS CARD. To U. AND A. "T^EAR birds, so close upon one bough, A tranquil sky above you — Be ever more as close as now, So pray the hearts that love you. The sky indeed may cloud or change, There is no trust in weather ! And you may seek a lowlier range. But you will fly together. Together build and tend the nest. Together soar on high. And, having known earth's very best, Dear birds, together die ! 49 CHRISTMAS CARD FOR THE OLD. (With picture of a Robin ) /"^UR other birds sing best in Spring, Their song is of delight, Of nesthngs safe beneath the wing, Of love, of joy, of light ! The robin sings when trees are bare And cold and dull the scene — No mate, no nestlings, claim his care, He sings of what has been. And we, who walk in dreary ways And find them lone and long, May still look back to happier days And bless the Robin's song ! E 5° CHRISTMAS DAY. T ET us turn from private troubles, Give our thoughts a wider scope ; Look out to man's higher future — Christmas tells of Hope ! If a jar, a discord, vex us. We will bid its turmoil cease ; Every voice to-day be tender ! Christmas tells of Peace ! If our cherished ones have left us, Through our tears we'll look above ; Love is deathless as its giver ! Christmas tells of Love ! 51 NEA\' YEAR'S DAY. ^^HAT will the New Year bring? What take away ? Seek not to guess its course, Live in to-day. Do to-day's duty, Prize its delight, — Then, when to-morrow comes, All will be right. Love those around you now, Better and best ; " Live like Immortals here ; " Trust for the rest. 52 THOUGHTS FOR THE OLD YEAR. True Riches. A S we near the dark river, so deep and so strong, The river we all have to cross, How our treasures drop off as we journey along. How much of our gold turns out dross ! All the sense of distinction, the subjects of pride, Seemed part of our being before, Are so scared at the rush of that pitiless tide, They leave us alone on its shore. But the love in our hearts and the memories pure Of all that was tender and true, Through the last weary steps of our journey endure, Nor fade with the river in view. We can carry them safely quite down to its brink, They suffer no change and no loss ; And the river need hardly affright if we think, Perhaps — we shall take them across ! 53 NEW YEAR WISHES. r^OOD NEW YEAR WISHES for my friends ! Good New Vear Wishes truly ! I feel my heart beat high with these, Yet cannot speak them duly. The very phrases others use Half jar upon my ear ; They seem to miss my inmost thought Of blended hope and fear. " A happy year, with many more To follow in its train ! " So runs the hackneyed form, as though Long life to all were gain ! 54 As though bright suns had only power To colour, not to fade ! As though no growth of human flower Were fairest in the shade ! My many friends, I dare not breathe A common wish for all ! A honeyed thought to you or you To others were but gall. So different the heart within, The outward life around, You scarcely see the self-same sky, Or tread the self-same ground. There are who wake from troubled sleep. This birthday of the year, To feel their anguish but renewed By sounds of general cheer : — 55 Some voice is still that greeted them On last year's opening day — Some eyes that dwelt on their's with love In Earth are put away. Last year had days and nights that passed In sorrow soothed by sharing ; Now there is none to soothe and bless By calm and cheerful bearing ! Their eyes may weep to dimness now — No further need for hiding ! Of smiling back their loving flow, For fear of loving chiding ! There arc, to whom a cup of joy So foaming o'er is given, It seems too full for Life to drain — It seems as Earth were Heaven ! 56 They fain would fling their weight of bliss On Time's too rapid flying,- - Stretch the glad moments into years, And stay the years from dying ! There are whom still the Future lures From present pastures fair, With promise of a fuller life. With whispered " Then ! " and " There ! " Their hope-lit " Now " seems cold and slow, They i)ray to Time, " Speed fleeter ! Set — summer suns ! pass — tranquil hours ! And make our bhss completer ! " And there are others, who foresee Throughout the coming year, No rainbow m their leaden sky, No special hope or fear : — 57 Their morrows tell the tale inscribed On yesterday's dull page ; No wayside flower to mark the path That leads from youth to age. My many friends, how should I find A wish ye all might share ? I dare not utter one at all, — Or only as a Prayer — That He who knows each spirit's wants Beyond my love to read, May mould your wishes to His will, And crown them thus indeed : — May give the lonely — patient hearts The weight of Life to bear ; May nerve the loving and beloved The thought of Death to dare ! — 5S Before you all One Presence go, To guard and guide you right ; To some, the pillared cloud by day, To others, " Light by Night ! " From " Good Words," 1861. 59 EXCELSIOR. T F you yourself stand low, the low will hide from you the high ; Rise, and the topmost peaks alone are out-lined on the sky. Yet even so, you say, a cloud may hide them from your sight ; Still Rise — nor count it labour lost— that cloud pro- claims their height. 'o' Llanberis. 1S76. This book IS DUE on the date stamped below. last JOM-1 1-50(2555)470 REMINGTON RAND I N C . ZD Saiith - Lines '/&f% 000375 506 iiiiiii