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Gems In Verse

Gems In Verse image
Parent Issue
Day
15
Month
February
Year
1893
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

"Sweetheart, you deern me good," I said As I took Bessie'B soft, white band; "You tbink the Ufe that I have led Has been quite perfect, pure and grand. "Bot ere we wed, my darling Bess. I teil you fratikly that my ways Have been quite devious: I confesa I've spent gome wicked oights and days." "Nay, ay no more," quoth Bess, deiuure; "I know it all- I koow tbe worst; Your motber told me. and I'm sure Yoq told ber all your follies first." Wlmt oould 1 say? This trustful lamb Had learned that ouce 1 teased the cat And twice or thrice had stolen jara- How could I deal witb faith like tbat? -H. S. Tomer. The Peuple In Mars. There are people living in Mare, they say, Enjoying the lease of a longer year. And a starrier night, and a sunnier day, And steadier climates than we have here. Are their winters blighted by want and woe- Tbeir summera by pestilence, plague and thunder? Do they suffer there as we do below, I wonder? Do they plant and water their rosy fields. And Btruggle with sorrow and flght with fears, While the thorns and thistles their red earth yields Are cboking tbe seed that they sowed in tears? Do they trust in ldols of etone and wood. And trample the meek and lowly under? Do they love the evil and leave the good, I wonder? Or a happier world may it be than this, Wheresin has notentered, nordeatb by ein- Which ia blusbing etill from Creation'B kiss, Whilst nevé, a serpent has slidden in? And if we may wander amongst the stars Wüen body and spirit are riven aaundtr, May we live life over again in Mars, I wonder? Phall we find what here we have sought ia vain- Fulfllling Ideáis wbere once we fatled? With the crooked made straight aud the roogb made plain, Will difficult mountains at last be scaled? Sball we cleanse uur wuys and redeem our wortb- Repair the oíd wastes and retrieve each blunder Shall we meet in Mars all we mlssed on Earta, I wonder? -Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. Coutancy. To eonstaney a tbonsand f anes are reared, To cüiibtancy a tbousand songs are sang; The virtue honored, cherisbed and revered, Theme for the old and goal to tempt tb young. Stil] are we tanght, like fancies live and die: F ai tb, hope and love abide ín constancy. Vet who that prizes summer's golden moon Bat longs for autumn's soft, pathetic grace? Wbo revele In the lavish wealth of Jane, Nor sighs to think of April's varying face? Who tired of glare bat tarns to the warm gloom, Wbere the great yalelogs glimmer in the room? Why, without change, a rift would deepen üown; A passing wrong would redden to a hate; A love would wither 'neath an ngry frown. And a rash vow take all the strength of f ate; Where constancy might darken, curse estrange. Fair fall the sunny power of happy change! Let time's soft magie wear away the wrath And patience do her perfect work at last, And hope sow laughing blossoms on the path That will outbloom the nieht's shade of the past, Till all that lives and moves in life's wide range May bless tha sweet vicisitudes of change. The Qtilet House. Oh, mothers, worn and weary, Vith cares which never cease, With never time for pleasure, With days that have no peace, With little hands to hinder And feeble steps to guard, With tasksthat lie unfinished. Deern not your lot too hard. I know a honse where childish thing Are hidden out of sight; vv uere neversouna oí Hule reet Is heard from morn till uight; No tiny hands that fast undo, That pull things all awry, No baby hurta to pity As the quiet days go by. The house is all in order And free from tiresome noise, No moments of confusión. No scattered broken toys. And the children's little garmeuti Are never soiled or torn, But are laid away forever Just as they last were worn. And she, the sad eyed mother, Whut would she give today To feel your cares and burdent, To walk your weary way! Ah, huppiest on all this earth, Could nhe again but see The rooms all strewn with playthinga And thechildren round her kneel -Alma Pendexter Hayden. Shared. I Baid It in the meadow path, I say it on the mountain stairs- The best things any mortal hath Are those which every mortal shares. The air we breatbe, the sky, the breeze, The light without us and within- Ufe with its uulocked treasuries, God's riches- are for all to win. The graes is eofter to my tread For rest it yields unnumbered feet; Sweeter to me the wild rose red Because she mak es the whole world awctt Into your heavenly loncliness Ye welcomed me, O soleinn peaks] And me in every Kutst jou bless Who reverently your mystery seeks. And up the radiant peopled way That opeDS into worlds unknown It wiH be life's delight to Bay, "Heaven is nol lieaven for me alone." Riel through my brethren's property- Such wealth were hideous. I am biest Only in what tbey share w itb me. In what I euare with all tbe rest. - Lucy Larcom. Itevenge. Revenge Is a naked svrord- It has aeither hilt nor guard. Wouldst thou wielil Ihis branl of the Lord? Is thy grat-p tben lirm and hard? But the closer thy clutch of the blade, The deadlier blow thou wouldst deal, Deeper wound in thy hand is made- It is thy blood reddens the steel. And when thou hast dealt the blow, "When the blade from thy hand is flown- Instead of the heart of the foe, TJbou mayst find it sheathed in thine own! -Charles Henry Webb. Tears. But ah! the tears tliat are not wept, The tears that never outward fall; The tears that Klief for years bas kept Within us- they are best of all; The tears onr eyes shall never know Are dearer thau the tears that flow. -Father Ryan. Ko More Worrylng. Hain't a-goin to worry any more - Hain't a-goin to fret and fuss about it! We'll git what's a-comia to us, shore. Er, thank God! we'll git alone without itl

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Courier