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There is no Death!
What seems so is transition.
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life Elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.
Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.
The Golden Legend.
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience He stands waiting, with exact
ness grinds He all.
Retribution. From the Sinngedichte of Friedrich
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!
The Building of the Ship.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
'HE freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
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.
A Metrical Essay.
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the God of storms,
The lightning and the gale.
Yes, child of suffering, thou mayest well be sure,
And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,
You think they are crusaders, sent
From some infernal clime,
To pluck the eyes of Sentiment,
And break the legs of Time.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
ND what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays.
The Vision of Sir Launfal.
This child is not mine as the first was,
I cannot sing it to rest,
I cannot lift it up fatherly
And bless it upon my breast.
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle
To win the secret of a weed's plain heart.
Earth's noblest thing, a woman perfected.
Truth for ever on the scaffold, Wrong for ever on the throne.
The Present Crisis.
Before man made us citizens, great Nature made us
F. S. KEY. 1779-1843.
PRAISE the Power that hath made and preserved
us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
ALBERT G. GREENE.
LD Grimes is dead; that good old man,
We ne'er shall see him more:
He used to wear a long black coat,
All buttoned down before.
JOHN LOUIS UHLAND.
TAKE, O boatman, thrice thy fee;
Take,—I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me.
CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH.
HOUGHT is deeper than all speech;
Souls to souls can never teach
What unto themselves was taught.
DRUNKARD clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em
The Revenger's Tragedy. Act iii. Sc. 1.
HENRY HART MILMAN.
AND the cold marble leapt to life a god.
The Belvidere Apollo.
Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
should we faint and fear to live alone,
Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own,
Burial of the Dead.