Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 127.djvu/78

REST.

Beneath the western heaven's span
     Has sunk the golden day;
The clouds' rich sunset hues and tints
     Have died in shade away;
The dim night comes from out the east
     With gloom and vapour gray.

The stars far in the sky's blue depths
     Their vigils 'gin to keep;
The moon above yon eastern hill
     Climbs up the lofty steep;
The night-winds steal with gentle wing
     Above the flowers asleep.

The birds upon the tuneless spray
     Have folded close their wings;
And to the silent night alone
     The winding river sings:
Its song is of the woods and meads,
     A hundred happy things.

No voice is in the tranquil air,
     No murmur save its own;
The earth is hushed as heaven above,
     Where, girt with cloudy zone,
The moon goes up among the stars
     To take her ebon throne.
 
Sweet calm, and undisturbed repose,
     O'er all the landscape rest;
Yet is there in the breathless scene
     A voice which thrills the breast,
A something, which in thanks and love
     May only be expressed.

Chambers' Journal.

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WHITHERSOEVER.

Whatever haps shall come to you and me.

What sunshines and what shadows, what delights

And what strange anguish, what long-during nights

Of loneliness, and what sweet sympathy;

What hours of vision when we seem to see

Something of meaning round us, and what glooms,

Sight-foiling, when an unstarr'd prospect dooms

Our baffled souls to mere perplexity;

Whate'er shall come, friend, yet will we not fear;

For we will aye to our own selves be true —

True to our higher selves all life-time through;

Not murmuring creeds unvital, but agreed

To search for truth, where'er the search shall lead.

With "bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear."

J. W. Hales.

Macmillan's Magazine.

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MY VOICE SHALT THOU HEAR IN THE
MORNING.

My voice shalt Thou hear this morning,
     For the shades have passed away.
And out from the dark like a joyous lark
     My heart soars up with the day;
And its burden all is blessing.
     And its accents all are song;
For Thou hast refreshed its slumbers.
     And Thy strength hath made it strong.

My voice shalt Thou hear this morning,
     For the day is all unknown;
And I am afraid without Thine aid
     To travel its hours alone.
Give me Thy light to lead me.
     Give me Thy hand to guide.
Give me Thy living presence.
     To journey side by side.

Star of eternal morning,
     Sun that can ne'er decline.
Day that is bright with unfading light,
     Ever above me shine.
For the night shall all be noontide.
     And the clouds shall vanish far,
When my path of life is gilded
     By the bright and morning star.

George Matheson

Sunday Magazine.

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QUESTION.

But is it there, the heaven you sing?
     Shall God make whole the rents of life?
And shall our ears no longer ring
     With the old clang of empty strife?
Shall things be fair, yet never fleet?
     Shall laughter be the voice of mirth?
Shall nature's force be soft, and sweet
     With tender memories of earth?
Or, while our friends and lovers weep
     That we have passed death's iron gate,
Shall we be lost in endless sleep,
     Nor dream of those that mourn our fate?

W. H. P.

Examiner.

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CHANGE OF SEASONS.

All seasons we may come to seek
     Where thou, my dear one, art, —
Warm summer on the little cheek.
     Cold winter in the heart.

But all things change; and so, my love.
     These seasons shall depart:
The winter to thy cheek shall move,
     The summer, to thy heart!