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Gems In Verse

Gems In Verse image
Parent Issue
Day
21
Month
January
Year
1891
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

The halcyon days are over, love, The haJcyon days are over; There is no merry hura of bees In the sere and scentless clover; The dirgeliku breeze sighs through the trees, "Tue halcyou days are over." All nature tells the story, love, The halcyon days arO over; Ko bird note wakes the woods or plain Save the lone pipe of the plover, While the dismal rain beats the rotrstn, "The halcyon days are over.11 The days that were lonp: anl sunny, love, The halcyon days are over, When you were the summer belle, and I Your happy and favored lover. Then why this siph f or days gone by, The halcyon days now over? Por you are the pruse Pve won, my love, And bachelor days are over; Yet, Bomehow, on our wedding day, The bells from old Hanover Beomed to say in a merry way, "For-ev-er-and-aye-ev-er-and-aye, ver. " - Btrs. Jorome Hardcastto. Heterodoxy. Pray thee, put the sermón by- vex my soul do more with croeds; They are only stones and husks to my hungry spirit's needs. I am tired of striving sects, with their varióos bijotry - Ah, for me death holds no terror but the fear of loosing thee I In a Heaven apart from theo could my exiled soul rejoice? Could I join the angel's song, missing thence thy tender voiee? What to me were gates of peart if they parted thee and met What the streets so fair and golden if I walked thern seeking thee? What to me would be the joys of that bright and wondrous land, If among thein I should lack evermore thy loving hand' What to me the pastures green where thy feet could never be? What the paths beside still waters if thou walk est not with me? Ah, wherever after death my still faithful soul may dweil, Saints may cali it bli&i or woe- they may name it Heaven or heil, By thee, only, oh, beloved, will my joy or pain be wrougbt, I shall find my he&ven beside thee, or ray heil where thou art not! -Florence Percy. Child and Mother. 0, Mother-My-Love, if you'll give me your hand. And go where I ask you to wander, I wül lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder. We'll walk in a sweet posie garden out there, Where moonlight and starlight are streaming, And the flowers and the birds are fllling the air With the fragrance and music of dreaming. There'n be no little tired out boy to undress. No questions or cares to perplex you ; There1!! be no little brulses or bumps to carees. Nor patching of stockings to vex you; For 111 rock you away on a silver dew stream And eing you to sleep when you're weary, And no one shall know of our beautiful dream But you aud your own little dearie. And when I am tired ril nestle my head In the bosom that's soothed me so often. And the wide a wake stars shall sing, in my stead, A Bong which our dreamland shall soften, So, Mother-My-Love, let me take your dear hand, And away üirough the Btarlight we'll wander, Away through the mist to the beautiful land, The Dreamland that 's waiting out yonder. - EugeneFieML Indirection. Fair are the flowers and the chQdren, but their Bubtte suggestion is fairer; Hare is the rose buret of dawa, but the secret that clasps it is rarer; Sweet the exultance of xik, but tbe strata that precedes it is sweeter; And never was poem yet writ but the meaning outrnastered the meier. Nerer a daisy that grovs but a mystery gnideth thegrowing; Kever a river that flows bot a maesty scepters the ñow ing; Nerer a Shakespeare that soared but a strongr than he did enfold him; Kor even a propliet foretells but a mightier sear luu.li foretold him. Back of the canvas that throbs the painter ■ hinted and hidden; Into the statue that breatbes the soul of the eculptor is hidden ; TJnder the joy that is feit lie the infinite issues of feeiing; Growning the glory revealed is the glory that crowns the revealing. Great are the synibols of being, but tbat which Is symboled is greater; Vast the créate and beheld, but vaster the inward crea tor; Back of the sound broods tbe silence, back of th gift stands the giving; Back of the hand that receives thrill the sensiti ve nerves of receiving. Space is as nothing to spirit, the deed is outdone by the doing; Tbe faeart of the wooer is warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing ; And up f rom the pits where these shiver, and up from the heighta where those shine, Twain voices and shadows swim starward, and the essence of life is divine, -Richard Eealf. " I Am a Woraan." I am a woman- therefore I may not Gall to him, cry to him, Fly to him, Pray him delay notl And when he comes to me, I must rit quiet; Still as a stone is, Harder and colder. If my heart riot- Cmsh and defy it! Sliould I grow bolder- Say one dear thing to him, All my life fling U him, Cling to him- Wliat to atone is Enough for my sinningl This were the cost to me, This were my winning- That he were lost to me! Not as a lover at last if he part from me, Teoring my heart from me- Hurt beyond cure - Cal in and demure Tlien my behavior; Showing no sign to him By look of mine to him, What he has been to me. Pity me - lean to me Chrisl - O my Saviourl Time Shall Show. Tbou canst not see grass grow, how sharp soe'er thou be, Yet that tbe grass lias grown thou very soon OBOad So, though thou canst not see thy work now prosl'i-ring, kiiu.v The print of vury work, time without fail shall show. - Ruckert Pust the Alpine Summit. Yet oourago, soul nor hold thy strength in vain, In hopt o'erc ime the steps God set for thee; For past the s ljiuo summits of great paiu Lieth iLaly. -Rose Terry. Liberty. For always in thine eyes, oh, Liberty! Shines that nu-li iight whereby the worldissaved; And thoogb i bou slay us, wo will trust in thee. -John Ilay. Have winningjways- Book-makers. "Put up or shut up"- The umbrella.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Courier