TALK who will of the world as a desert of thrall, Yet, yet, there is bloom on the waste: Though the chalice of life hath its acid and gall, There are honey-drops too for the taste.
There are times when the storm-gust may rattle around,
There are spots where the poison shrub grows; Yet are there not hours when naught else can be
But the south wind, the sunshine, and rose?
O haplessly rare is the portion that's ours,
And strange is the path that we take,
If there spring not beside us a few precious flowers,
To soften the thorn and the brake.
Earth is not all fair, yet it is not all gloom;
And the voice of the grateful will tell,
That he who allotted pain, death, and the tomb,
Gave hope. health, and the bridal as well.
Then say not the world is a desert of thrall;
There is bloom, there is light on the waste;
Though the chalice of life hath its acid and gall,
There are honey-drops too for the taste.
ELIZA COOK.
PRESENTED, TOGETHER WITH A KNIFE, ON HER WEDDING-DAY, WHICH HAPPENED TO BE HER BIRTH-DAY AND NEW-YEAR'S DAY.
(Written in the last century.)
A KNIFE, my dear, cuts love, they say-
Mere modish love perhaps it may ;
For any tool of any kind
Can separate what was never joined.
The knife that cuts our love in two
Will have much tougher work to do:
Must cut your softness, worth, and spirit
Down to the vulgar size of merit;
To level yours with modern taste,
Must cut a world of sense to waste;
And from your single beauty's store
Clip what would dizen out a score.
The self-same blade from me must sever
Sensation, judgment, sight forever;
All memory of endearments past,
All hope of comforts long to last,
All that makes fourteen years with you
A summer-and a short one too;
All that affection feels and fears,
When hours, without you, seem like years.—
Till that be done, (and I'd as soon
Believe this knife will clip the moon,)
Accept my present undeterred,
And leave their proverbs to the herd.
REV. SAMUEL BISHOP.
TO THE SAME, WITH A RING.
"THEE, Mary, with this ring I wed,"
So sixteen years ago I said
"To wed thee o'er again-why not?"
With the first ring I married youth,
Grace, beauty, innocence, and truth:
Taste long admired, sense long revered;
And all my Mary then appeared.
If she, by merit since disclosed,
Prove twice the woman I supposed,
I plead that double merit now,
To justify a double vow.
Here then to-day, (with faith as sure,
With ardor as intense and pure,
As when amidst the rites divine
I took thy troth and plighted mine,)
To thee, sweet wife, my second ring,
A token and a pledge I bring;
With this I wed, till death us part,
Thy riper virtues to my heart;
Those virtues, which, before untried,
The wife has added to the bride;
Those virtues, whose progressive claim,
Endearing wedlock's very name,
My soul enjoys, my song approves,
For conscience' sake, as well as love's.
For why? They show me hour by hour
Honor's high thought, affection's power,
Discretion's deed, sound judgment's sentence;
And teach me all things-but repentance.
I REMEMBER.
I REMEMBER, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window, where the sun
Came peeping in, at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups-
Those flowers made of light;
The lilacs, where the robins built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum, on his birth-day,
The tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air would rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
-My spirit flew in feathers, then,
That is so heavy now,
And the summer pool could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!
|