Gems In Verse

Tliere are despairs whicb seem to blast and kíll, That darkcn day and rob the stars of light, That inake the maal i est weep as women miga i , That beud the valor of the human will- Despairs which burn like hopeless love; and slill Love can transfigure white It seems to blight; Strong hearts feed nobly on their grief, despite A world whero hearts can ever thrive but ill. Sweet love and laughter are the dream ot yonth. And soft contentnient is a golden bar Which shuls a life within its commonplace; But the old world growa wiser in the truth That sorrows fashion us to what we are And rouse the iuvincible genius of our race. - G. E. Montgomery. "Sleepy Hollow. O place of beauty, place of rest! Above Thee high the mountains crest, the river rolls Beside, the peace of God broods over thee. Like benediction falls his smile upon Thy face. 'Tis like the gladness of the heart When work is done, like rest that follows toil, Like sleep "he giveth his beloved." When earth and skies were drear, and autumn winds Moaned shrill, and dark the threatening river rushed Between iis banks all stript and bare, in dull November day a train of mourners, sad And slow, brought one to thee and laid him down In his last sleep. A good, great man was he, Of lengthof days. llonorshehad.and friends, And that mysterioas spell which men caH fame Was bis. A good, great man, whose name will live. No wonder, then, that men iike pilgrims come To thee, seeking his resting place, as to A shriue. O stars, can you bcam the liveiong night? O flowers, can you open in morning light? O sails, can you fleck the river white? O sun, can you blaze in sky so bright? O birds, can you sing your midday token When she lies dead and a heart U broken? O place of beauty, place of rest! The good And great had made his bed with thee. And was Not that enough? To flll thy hungry grave Must cruel death strike her, the young, the brave, The fair? Oh, she was fair, and she was good As she was fair. And she had hope and love. 0 place of beauty, place of rest! Cruel As beautiful thou art. I charge thee keep That which to thee was given that summer day- That early summer day whose sunshine struck Me blind. Keep as a sweet and sacred trust That which to thee was given "until he come." -Sarah De Wolf Gainweli. Columbtis. Colnmbus as, they teil us now, A man of ftaw aud fieck- A man who steered a pírate prow And trod a slaver's deck. In narrow, bigot blindness curled. Cruel and vain was he- To such was given to lift a world Froni out the darkened sea. Though weak and cruel, vain, untrua, From all earth's high and tow God picked this man his work to do, Four hundred years ago. There in the distance standeth he, liound on his mighty quest. This rough oíd admira) of the sea Still puinting tuwarel the west. There stands he on his westward prow, A man entirely strong; So great, the bald truth spoken now Ca n liever do him wrong. Though slaver, pirate he might be, He had that gift of fateThat wise aud sane insanity That makee the great man great. - Yankee Blade. Letting His Sonl I„oaf. 1 don't spend noue o' my good time in politicks an sich; [ ain't a-makin folks grow poor, an me a-gettin rich; I ain't a-pesterin any one- jes' livin at my ease. A-hum m when 1 want to, an flshin when I please] Jes' let 'an take the offices an run 'em fur an high. I'd ruther have a violet from a girl's hand- sweet and shy, Than run the whole United States! So, brethren, let her roll, For a streak o' April sunshine is jes' lightin up my soul! Give me birds a-singing in the swoet, salutin trees, A-lavin au a-wavin all their blossoms in the breeze. Give me my daisied meadows, jes' a-smilin to the blue, An the bendin trees above 'em jes' a-bowin "howdy-do!" An the country girls- God bless 'em, an dresa 'em plain an sweet. Jes' like he does the violets that purple at their f eet- The girls a-huntin honey in their bonnets an their curls- Oh, what is all your money to tho red lips of the {iris? Sing sweet, O birds o' Aprill Sing sweet o'er Ml] an plain, While the wouderin world is tangled in the sunlight an the rain! We ain't a-pesterin any one- jes' livin at our ease, A-huntin when we want to, an fishin when we pleaset -Frank L. S tan ton. Average People. The genius soars far to the fountain That feeds the snowcap in the sky; But though our rings break in theflying. And tlioutth our souls faint in the trying, Our flight cannot follow so high; And the eagle swoops not from the mountain To ansvver the ground bird's low cry. The world has a gay guerdon ready To hail the Heet foot in the race; But on the dull highway of duty, A loof from the pomp and the beauty The stir and the chance of the chase. Are toilers, u ith steps true and steady, Pursuing their wearisome pace. False prowess and noisy insistence May capture the garrulous throng, But the "average" father and brother, The home keeping sister and mother, Crown gentle and patiënt and strong, Shall learu in the fast nearing distance herein lif e's awardB have been wrong. Then here's to the "average" people, The makers of home aud its rtsl : To tbem the world turns for a blessiii!; When lile its hard burdens is pressing, For stay-at-home hearts are the best; Birds build if they will in the hteeple, But safer the eaves lor a nest. -May Riley Smith. The Essence of Lifo Is Divine. Space is as uothiug to spirit, the deed is ontdone by the doing; The heart of the wooerla warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing: And up from the pits where these Bhiver, and _ np from tho heighta where those shine, Twain voiees and shadows Bwim etarward, Jiud the essence of life is divine. -Richard Eealf. What f That? Hard! Wi-11, what of that? Dtdst. fancy life one summer holiday, With lessons none to learn, and naught but play? Go, get thee to thy task! Conquer or diel It must be learned! Learn it, then, patiently.