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LITTLE AND GREAT.

A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern;
A passing stranger scooped a well,
Where weary men might turn.
He walled it in, and hung with care

A ladle at the brink:

He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that Toil might drink.
He passed again-and lo! the well,
By summers never dried,

Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues,
And saved a life beside.

A dreamer dropped a random thought;
'Twas old-and yet 'twas new:
A simple fancy of the brain,

But strong in being true.
It shone upon a genial mind,
And lo! its light became
A lamp of life, a beacon ray,
A monitory flame.

The thought was small-its issue great;

A watch-fire on the hill,

It sheds its radiance far adown,

And cheers the valley still.

A nameless man, amid a crowd

That thronged the daily mart, Let fall a word of hope and love, Unstudied, from the heart.

HOW STANDS THE GLASS AROUND?

A whisper on the tumult thrown,
A transitory breath,

It raised a brother from the dust,
It saved a soul from death.

O germ! O fount! O word of love!
O thought at random cast!
Ye were but little at the first,
But mighty at the last!

CHARLES MACKAY.

HOW STANDS THE GLASS AROUND?

How stands the glass around?
For shame! ye take no care, my boys;
How stands the glass around?

Let mirth and wine abound.

The trumpets sound;

The colors they are flying, boys.

To fight, kill, or wound,

May we still be found

Content with our hard fare, my boys,

On the cold ground.

Why, soldiers, why

Should we be melancholy, boys?

Why, soldiers, why?

Whose business 'tis to die!

What! sighing? fie!

SONG.

Don't fear! drink on, be jolly, boys!

'Tis he, you, or I!

Cold, hot, wet or dry,

We're always bound to follow, boys,

And scorn to fly.

"Tis but in vain

(I mean not to upbraid you, boys,)

"Tis but in vain

For soldiers to complain;

Should next campaign

Send us to Him who made us, boys,

We're free from pain;

But if we remain,

A bottle and a kind landlady

Cure all again.

SONG.

DAY, in melting purple dying!
Blossoms, all around me sighing!
Fragrance, from the lilies straying!
Zephyr, with my ringlets playing!
Ye but waken my distress;
I am sick of loneliness.

ANONYMOUS.

SONG.

Thou to whom I love to hearken,
Come, ere night around me darken!
Though thy softness but deceive me,
Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee;
Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent;
Let me think it innocent.

Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure:
All I ask is friendship's pleasure;
Let the shining ore lie darkling,
Bring no gem in lustre sparkling :
Gifts and gold are naught to me;
I would only look on thee!

Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling,
Ecstasy but in revealing;

Paint to thee the deep sensation,

Rapture in participation;

Yet but torture, if comprest

In a lone, unfriended breast.

Absent still! Ah, come and bless me!
Let these eyes again caress thee.
Once, in caution, I could fly thee;

Now I nothing could deny thee.

In a look if death there be,
Come and I will gaze on thee!

MARIA BROOKS.

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