From the ripe harvest that shining stood, But waiting the reaper's knife. Then labor well, that in death you go Not only with blossoms sweet,— Not bent with doubt and burdened with fears, ELIZA O. PEIRSON. THE WORLD WOULD BE THE BETTER FOR IT. IF men cared less for wealth and fame, On Love to guide, The world would be the better for it. If men dealt less in stocks and lands, Would once combine, The world would be the better for it. If more would act the play of Life, And fewer spoil it in rehearsal; If Bigotry would sheath its knife, Till good became more universal; If Custom, gray with ages grown, Had fewer blind men to adore it, If Talent shone In Truth alone, The world would be the better for it. If men were wise in little things- To isolate their kindred feelings; If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, In every fight, The world would be the better for it. M. H. COBB. HELEN OF TROY. LONG years ago he bore to a land beyond the sea, To a city fair and stately, that renowned must ever be Through all ages yet to follow, for the light shed there by me. I am Helen; where is Troy? They have told me not a roof-tree nor a wall is standing now, That o'erthrown is the great altar, where ten thousand once did bow, While on high to Aphrodite rose the solemn hymn and vow. I am Helen; where is Troy? Do they deem thus the story of my life will pass away? Troy betrayed, and all who loved me slain upon that fatal day, Shall but make the memory of me evermore with men to stay. I am Helen; where is Troy? Fools! to dream that time can ever make the tale of Troy grow old; Buried now is every hero, and the grass green o'er the mold. But of her they fought and died for, every age shall yet be told. I am Helen; where is Troy? AFTER THE FALL OF TROY. TROY has fallen; and never will be There still remains this for all time to be: Back for those years in Troy with me. |