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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
When his glad mother on him stole
And snatched him to her breast ! GONE, gone from us! and shall we see O, thoughts were brooding in those eyes, Those sibyl-leaves of destiny,
That would have soared like strongThose calm eyes, nevermore?
winged birds Those deep, dark eyes so warm and Far, far into the skies, bright,
Gladding the earth with song,
How peacefully they rest,
Those small, white hands that ne'er were Quenched are the hopes that had their I still before, birth,
But ever sported with his mother's hair, As we watched them slowly rise, Or the plain cross that on her breast she Stars of a mother's fate;
wore ! And she would read them o'er and o'er, Her heart no more will beat Pondering, as she sate,
To feel the touch of that soft palm, Over their dear astrology,
That ever seemed a new surprise
With his calm breathing, I should think
That he were dropped asleep. The tongue that scarce had learned to Alas! too deep, too deep claim
Is this his slumber !
Time scarce can number
10, may we see his eyelids open then ! I loved to see the infant soul
O stern word - Nevermore ! (How mighty in the weakness Of its untutored meekness !)
As the airy gossamere, Peep timidly from out its nest,
Floating in the sunlight clear, His lips, the while,
Where'er it toucheth clingeth tightly, Fluttering with half-fledged words, Round glossy leaf or stump unsightly, Or hushing to a smile
So from his spirit wandered out That more than words expressed, | Tendrils spreading all about,
Knitting all things to its thrall
“To the shore With a perfect love of all :
Follow ! O, follow ! O stern word – Nevermore !
To be at rest forevermore !
Look how the gray old Ocean
Heaving with a gentle motion,
List how he sings in an undertone,
Chiming with our melody; He did but Hoat a little way,
And all sweet sounds of earth and air And, putting to the shore
Melt into one low voice alone, While yet 't was early day,
That murmurs over the weary sea, Went calmly on his way,
And seems to sing from everywhere, - ' To dwell with us no more!
“ Here mayst thou harbor peacefully, No jarring did he feel,
Here mayst thou rest from the aching No grating on his shallop's keel;
car; A strip of silver sand
Turn thy curved prow ashore, Mingled the waters with the land And in our green isle rest forevermore ! Where he was seen no more :
Forevermore !" O stern word - Nevermore !
And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill,
And, to her heart so calm and deep, Full short his journey was; no dust Murmurs over in her sleep, Of earth unto his sandals clave;
Doubtfully pausing and murmuring still, The weary weight that old men must, “Evermore!" He bore not to the grave.
Thus, on Life's weary sea, He seemed a cherub who had lost his
Heareth the marinere way
Voices sweet, from far and near, And wandered hither, so his stay
Ever singing low and clear, • With us was short, and 't was most meet
Ever singing longingly.
Is it not better here to be,
| In the dreary night to see O blest word — Evermore !
Nothing but the blood-red moon
Or, in the loneliness of day,
To see the still seals only
Solemnly lift their faces gray,
Is it not better than to hear
A cold and lonely grave,
Lean over the side and see The low west-wind creeps panting up The leaden eye of the sidelong shark the shore
Upturned patiently, To be at rest among the flowers ;
Ever waiting there for thee : Full of rest, the green moss lifts, Look down and see those shapeless forms, As the dark waves of the sea
Which ever keep their dreamless sleep Draw in and out of rocky rifts,
Far down within the gloomy deep, Calling solemnly to thee
And only stir themselves in storms, With voices deep and hollow, - | Rising like islands from beneath,
And snorting through the angry spray, Far down into her large and patient eyes As the frail vessel perisheth
I gaze, deep-drinking of the infinite, In the whirls of their unwieldy play; As, in the mid-watch of a clear, still night, Look down! Look down !
I look into the fathomless blue skies. Upon the seaweed, slimy and dark, That waves its arms so lank and brown, So circled lives she with Love's holy Beckoning for thee !
light, Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark That from the shade of self she walketh Into the cold depth of the sea !
free; Look down ! Look down !
The garden of her soul still keepeth she
She hath a natural, wise sincerity,
So that no influence of our earth can stir Here all is pleasant as a dream ; Her steadfast courage, nor can take away The wind scarce shaketh down the dew, The holy peacefulness, which night and The green grass floweth like a stream
day, Into the ocean's blue;
Unto her queenly soul doth minister. Listen! O, listen ! Here is a gush of many streams,
Most gentle is she ; her large charity A song of many birds,
(An all unwitting, childlike gift in her) And every wish and longing seems Not freer is to give than meek to bear; Lulled to a numbered flow of words, – And, though herself not unacquaint with Listen ! 0, listen !
care, Here ever hum the golden bees
Hath in her heart wide room for all that Underneath full-blossomed trees,
be, At once with glowing fruit and flowers Her heart that hath no secrets of its own, crowned ;
But open is as eglantine full blown. So smooth the sand, the yellow sand, Cloudless forever is her brow serene, That thy keel will not grate as it touches Speaking calı hope and trust within her, the land ;
whence All around with a slumberous sound, Welleth a noiseless spring of patience, The singing waves slide up the strand, That keepeth all her life so fresh, so green And there, where the smooth, wet peb. And full of holiness, that every look, bles be,
The greatness of her woman's soul reveal. The waters gurgle longingly,
ing, As if they fain would seek the shore, Unto me bringeth blessing, and a feeling To be at rest from the ceaseless roar, As when I read in God's own holy book. To be at rest forevermore, Forevermore.
A graciousness in giving that doth make Thus, on Life's gloomy sea, The small'st gift greatest, and a sense Heareth the marinere
most meek Voices sweet, from far and near, Of worthiness, that doth not fear to take Ever singing in his ear,
From others, but which always fears to “Here is rest and peace for thee!”
speak Its thanks in utterance, for the giver's
The deep religion of a thankful heart,
Which rests instinctively in Heaven's Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear; clear law Calmly beneath her earnest face it lies, with a full peace, that never can depart Free without boldness, meek without a From its own steadfastness;- a holy awe fear,
For holy things, — not those which men Quicker to look than speak its sympa call holy, thies,
But such as are revealed to the eyes