THE LIFE CLOCK.

Nor set in gold, nor decked with gems,
By wealth and pride possessed,
But rich or poor, or high or low,

Each bears it in his breast.

When life's deep stream, 'mid beds of flowers.
All still and softly glides,

Like the wavelet's step, with a gentle beat,

It warns of passing tides.

When threatening darkness gathers o'er,

And hope's bright visions flee,

Like the sullen stroke of the muffled oar,
It beateth heavily.

When passion nerves the warrior's arm
For deeds of hate and wrong,
Though heeded not the fearful sound,
Its knell is deep and strong.

When eyes to eyes are gazing soft,
And tender words are spoken,
Then fast and wild it rattles on,
As if with love 'twere broken.

Such is the clock that measures life,
Of flesh and spirit blended.
And thus 'twill run within the heart

Till that strange tie is ended.

209

210

KNOW THYSELF.

Know Thyself.

Mrs. Sigourney.

HEN gentle Twilight sits
On Day's forsaken throne,
'Mid the sweet hush of eventide
Muse by thyself alone,
And at the time of rest,

Ere sleep asserts its power,

Hold pleasant converse with thyself
In meditation's bower.

Motives and deeds review

By Memory's truthful glass,
Thy silent self the only judge
And critic as they pass;
And if their wayward face

Should give thy conscience pain,

Resolve with energy divine

The victory to gain.

When morning's earliest rays

O'er spire and roof-tree fall,
Gladly invite thy waking heart.
Unto a festival

Of smiles and love to all,

The lowliest and the least,
And of delighted praise to Him,
The Giver of the feast.

KNOW THYSELF.

211

Not on the outer world

For inward joy depend; Enjoy the luxury of thought,

Make thine own self thy friend; Not with the restless throng,

In search of solace roam, But with an independent zeal Be intimate at home.

Good company have they

Who by themselves do walk

If they have learned on blessed themes
With their own souls to talk;

For they shall never feel

Of dull ennui the power,

Not penury of loneliness

Shall haunt their hall or bower.

Drink waters from the fount

That in thy bosom springs,
And envy not the mingled draught
Of satraps or of kings;

So shalt thou find at last,

Far from the giddy brain,

Self-knowledge and self-culture lead
To uncomputed gain.

212

O, NOT BY GRAVES.

0, not by Graves.

W. R. Wallace.

NOT by graves should tears be shed;
Nor there should cypress weave its gloom;
No!-gratulations for the dead,

And roses for the tomb!

Whatever pangs they had are o'er;
Whatever dark defects are past:
What care they now, on that still shore,
For bleak misfortune's blast?

Rest, all ye pale, cold people! Rest!
Scorners alike of pain and time;
O, with that still white-mantled breast
How patient and sublime!

But for the troubled living— tears;

For them the cypress's sad shade,
Who yet with agonies and fears
In battle are arrayed.

Then not by graves should tears be shed;

Nor there should cypress weave its gloom;
No!-gratulations for the dead,

And roses for the tomb!

SOMETHING CHEAP.

213

Something Cheap.

Charles Swain.

HERE'S not a cheaper thing on earth,

Nor yet one half so dear;

'Tis worth more than distinguished birth, Or thousands gained a year;

It lends the day a new delight;

'Tis nature's firmest shield;

And adds more beauty to the night
Than all the stars may yield.

To-morrow whispers peace; It is a gift from Heaven sent

For mortals to increase;

It meets you with a smile at morn,

It lulls you to repose

A flower for peer and peasant born,
An everlasting rose.

A charm to banish grief away,

To snatch the frown from care;
Turn tears to smiles, make dulness gay
Spread gladness every where;
And yet 'tis cheap as summer dew,

That gems the lily's breast;

A talisman for love, as true

As ever man possessed.