« 이전계속 »
And he's huffy, and stuffy, and puffy, and snuffy,
Then he sends for a doctor to cure or to kill,
By droppmg a hint about making his will;
Now, gentlemen! mark me, for this is the life
WE SHALL KNOW—Annie Herrert.
When the mists have rolled in splendor
From the beauty of the hills,
Falls in kisses on the rills,
In the rainbow of the spray,
If we err in human blindness
And forget that we are dust,
When we struggle to be just,
All the pain that hides away,
And the mists have cleared away,—
When the mists have cleared away.
When the silvery mist has veiled us
From the faces of our own,
And wo tread our path alone;
We should trust them day by day,
We shall know as we are known,
When the mists have cleared away.
When the mists have risen above us,
As our Father knows his own, Face to face with those that love us,
We shall know as we are known; Love, beyond the orient meadows,
Floats the golden fringe of day;
Till the mists have cleared away.
And the mists have cleared away.
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY.
She stood at the bar of justice,
A creature wan and wild,
In features too old for a child,
For a look so worn and pathetic
It seemed lung years of suffering
"Your name," said the judge, as he eyed her
With kindly look yet keen,
"And your age?"— I am turned fifteen." "Wei", Mary," and then from a paper
He 3lowly and gravely read, "You are charged here—I'm sorry to say it—
With stealing three loaves of bread.
"You look not like an offender,
Are you guilty of this, or no?"
Was at first her sole reply,
And looked in the judge's eye.
"I will tell you just how it was, sir,
My father and mother are dead, And my little brother and sisters
Were hungry and asked me for bread.
By working hard all day,
And the work all fell away.
"I could get no more employment;
The weather was bitter cold,
(Little johnny's but four years old;}-*"
I am guilty, but do not condemn, I took—oh, was it stealing?—
The bread to give to them."
Every man in the court-room—
Gray-beard and thoughtless youthKnew, as he looked upon her,
That the prisoner spake the truth, Out from their pockets came kerchiefs,
Out from their eyes sprung tears, And out from old faded wallets
Treasures hoarded for years.
The judge's face was a study—
The strangest you ever saw,
Something about the law.
So wise in dealing with men,
Sorely puzzled just then.
But no one blamed him or wondered,
When at last these words they heard
Is, for the present, deferred."
When he went to her and smiled,
Himself, the " guilty " child.
ODE FOR DECORATION DAY.
Bring flowers to strew again
With fragrant purple rain
Of lilacs, and of roses white and red,
The dwellings of our dead, our glorious dead I
Let the bells ring a solemn funeral chime,
And wild war-music bring anew the time
When they who sleep beneath
Were full of vigorous breath,
Holding in strong right hand
The fortunes of the land, The pride and power and safety of the North! It seems but yesterday The long and proud array— But yesterday when ev'n the solid rock Shook as with earthquake shock,— As North and South, like two huge icebergs, ground Against each other with convulsive bound, And the whole world stood still
To view the mighty war, .
And hear the thunderous roar, While sheeted lightnings wrapped each plain and hill. Alas! how few came back
From battle and from wrack!
Alas! how many lie
Beneath a Southern sky,
Who never heard the fearful fight was done,
And all they fought for won.
Sweeter, I think their sleep,
More peaceful and more deep,
Could they but know their wounds were not in vain,
We mourn for all, but each doth think of one
More precious to the heart than aught beside— Some father, brother, husband, or some son
Who came not back, or coming, sank and died,—
In him the whole sad list is glorified!
When battle raged from morn till blood-dewed eve. And lies there," one pale, widowed mourner says,
And knows not most to triumph or to grieve. "My boy fell at Fair Oaks," another sighs; "And mine at Gettysburg!" his neighbor cries,
And that great name each sad-eyed listener thrills. I think of one who vanished when the press Of battle surged along the Wilderness,
And mourned the North upon her thousand hills.
Oh! gallant brothers of the generous South,
Foes for a day and brothers for all time,
By Yorktown's field and Montezuma's clime,
And ye ! O Northmen ! be ye not outdone
In generous-thought and deed.
And they that give shall find it in their need.