Gems In Verse

Wliere Man Sliould Die. low little reeks it where men die, when once the moinent's past n which the dim and glazing eye nas looked on eath its last- Vhelher oeneatb the sculptured uru the cofhned form shall rest. ür in its nakednesa return back to its mother's breaBtl )eath ís a common friend or foe. as different men may hold, And at its aumrnons each must go- the timid and the bold; But wben the spirit, free and warm, deserts it, as it must, Vhat matters where the lif eless form dissolves again to dust? Twere sweet indeed to close our eyes with those we cherish near, And wafted upward by their sighs soar to some ealmer sphere; int whether on the scaffold high or in the battle's van, 'ne flttest place where man can die is where he dies for man! Iucoustant. nconstant! O ray Godl lnconstant! VTueu a single thought oí thee Senda all my shivering blood Hack on uiy heart iu thrills of ecstacy! nconstant! VVhen to feel That thou hast loved me, wilt love to the last, Were jojr euough to steal All fear froni life- the ft.ture and the past! nconstant! When to sleep And to dream that thou art near me Is to learn So much of heaven, 1 weep Becanse the earth and morning must return. nconstant! Ah, too trae! Turneil from the rightful shelter of thy breast; My tired heart flutters through The changeful world- a bird without a nest. nconstant to the crowd Through which 1 pass, as to the skies above The fickle summer cloud, But not to thee; oh, not to thee, dear love. may be false to all On earth besides, and every tender tie Whieh teems to hold in thrall This vruary life of mine may be a lie. Jut true as God 's own truth My steadfast heart turns backward evermore To that sweet time of youth Whose golden tide beats such a barren shore. nconstantl Not my own The hand which builds this wall between our lives: On its cold snadow, grown To perfect shape, the flower of love survives. God knowH tbat 1 would give All other joys, the sweetest and the best, For one short hour to live Close to thy heart, its comfort and ita rest. But life is not all dark. The sunlight goldens many a hidden slope. The dove shall flnd its ark Of peaceful refuge and of patiënt hope. And should another's head Sleep on thy heart, and it should ever seem To be my own instead. Oh, darlingl hold it closer for the dream. God wül forgive the sin, If sin it is; our lives are swept bo dry. So cold, so passion clean. Thank niin deatb comes at last- and so- goodby! Self Conquered. Go, if thoa wilt, beloved, far from me- What way eoever pleasure beckons tbee, But make this beart thy refuge still, alway, The key is thine- none other's. Stray or stay. When thou art wearied in that chatnber rest- When thou art grieved, and deemast quict best, When tbou art glad or sad. My tenderness Shall shield thy moods of silence. None shall guess Thy piesence there. Alas! what breaks my voice? Three times I tried to say, "Bring in thy choice Of one alone whose presence is most sweet. And I that friend with gracious word will greet." Forgive, love, that I faltered. "Yea," I cry, "Bring e'ea that friend thou lovest - thougb. I die." - Kate Vannah. Changes. Whom flrst we love, you know, we seldom wed. Time rules us all; and Hfe, Indeed, is not The thing we planned it out ere hope was dead; And then we woinen cannot ehooso our lot. Much must be borne which tt is hard to bear; luch given away, which it were sweet to keep. God help us all! who need, indeed, his care. And yet, 1 know, the Shepherd loves his sheep. My little boy begins to babbie now f Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer. He has his father's eager eyes, I kuow. And, they say, too, his mother's sunny hair. But when he sleeps and emiles upon my knee. And 1 can feel his light breath come and go, 1 think of one (Heaven help and pity me!) Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago. Who might have been- ah, what I dare BOt thinkl We are all changed. God judges for us best. God help us do our duty, and not shrink. And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest. But blame us woinen not, if some appear Too cold at times; and some too gay and light. Some griefs gnaw deep. Some woes are hard to bear. Who knowa the Past? and who can Judge ua right? Ah, were we judged by what we might have been. And not by what we are, too apt to falll My little child- he sleeps and Bmiles between These thoughts and me. In Heaven we shall know allí - Owen Meredith. AcroHH tlio Bay I gaze aeross the rippling, shining bay. And watch thedistant boats wltl eager eye, 1 wonder why the aails so far away Are whiter than the sails I see near by. Far out, the water glistens In the sun, With dazzlinjt beauty, as the daylight diea: The water near the shore la dull and dark. So full of shadows and of sad, drowned eye. This is lifo's story from the flrst U last. Tis far off things for which we ever pray. The beauty thut lies 'round us ive see not, But gaze with loviug eyes aeross the bay. -Florence A. Jones. The Her. Nay. never falten no great deed is done By falterers who ask for certainty. No goocl is certain but the steadfast mind, The undivided will to seek the good: Tis that compete the elementa and wrings A human music froin the indifferent air. The greatest gift the hero lea ves bis race Is to have been a hero. Say we fail! We feed the high tradition of the world. And leave our spirit iu our clüldren's breaste. - Lowell. "Our Own." We have cweful thoughts for the stranger And smilea for the coming guest: But oft for our own The bitter tone. Though we love "our own" the best 1 Ah! lips with the curve impatient. Ah! brow with that look of scorn, Twere a cruel fate Wero the night too late To undo the work of the mornl - Margaret E. Sangstcr. -■ Boiteterous olothes- Loud plaid suit.s.