which, seek through the world, is never met with elsewhere!
There's no place like home! there's no place like home!
John Stoward Jayne . /
The shine is lined with anchored stisch, One ship the lue to eye with miss; But God will know which anchor slips And sud his ange's one with this H.H.
God's love and peace be with thee, where Soe'er this soft autumnal air Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair!
Whether through city casements comes Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms, Or, out among the woodland blooms,
It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face, Imparting, in its glad embrace, Beauty to beauty, grace to grace!
Fair Nature's book together read,
The old wood-paths that knew our tread, The maple shadows overhead,
The hills we climbed, the river seen By gleams along its deep ravine, - All keep thy memory fresh and green.
Where'er I look, where'er I stray, Thy thought goes with me on my way, And hence the prayer I breathe to-day :
O'er lapse of time and change of scene, The weary waste which lies between Thyself and me, my heart I lean.
Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor The half-unconscious power to draw All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law.
With these good gifts of God is cast Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast To hold the blessed angels fast.
If, then, a fervent wish for thee The gracious heavens will heed from me, What should, dear heart, its burden be?
The sighing of a shaken reed, What can I more than meekly plead The greatness of our common need?
THE half-seen memories of childish days, When pains and pleasures lightly came and went; The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent In fearful wanderings through forbidden ways; The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze Of life to noble ends, - whereon intent, Asking to know for what man here is sent, The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze; The firm resolve to seek the chosen end Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature, Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend With strength no selfish purpose can secure : My happy lot is this, that all attend That friendship which first came, and which shall last endure.
And, after many a year,
Glowed unexhausted kindliness,
Like daily sunrise there.
My careful heart was free again;
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched, Through thee the rose is red;
All things through thee take nobler form,
And look beyond the earth;
The mill-round of our fate appears
A sun-path in thy worth.
Me too thy nobleness has taught
To master my despair;
The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
There is the common ledger for them all; And images on this cold surface traced Make slight impression, and are soon effaced. But we've a page, more glowing and more bright, On which our friendship and our love to write; That these may never from the soul depart, We trust them to the memory of the heart. There is no diniming, no effacement there; Each new pulsation keeps the record clear; Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill,
Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still.
The chaffing young folks stare and say, "See those old buffers, bent and gray; They talk like fellows in their teens! Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means," And shake their heads; they little know The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe!
How Bill forgets his hour of pride, While Joe sits smiling at his side; How Joe, in spite of time's disguise, Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes, - Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame? A fitful tongue of leaping flame ; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust: A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?
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