And poet friends, and poesy, And precious books, for any mood: And then that best of company, Those graver thoughts in solitude That hold us fast and never pall: Then there is You, my own, my fair-And I . . . soon I must leave it all, -And much you care. FREDERICK LOCKER. NATURE REPARATRICI. RAY cloud, gray veil 'twixt me and youth In vain the veil to silver melts, To chase them o'er the meadow. Yet nature holds a gracious hand, And spreads the charms we loved of old, Here her long crests of fringed crag Allure the sky-ward swallows; Here the still dove's low love-note floats Above her leafy hollows. Here its calm strength her hillside rears From heaving slopes of clover; Here still the pewit pipes and flits Within his furzy cover. Here hums the wild-bee in the thyme, And youth comes back upon the breeze, FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE. FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT. RUNE thou thy words, the thoughts control That o'er thee swell and throng; They will condense within thy soul, And change to purpose strong. But he who lets his feelings run In soft luxurious flow, Shrinks when hard service must be done, And faints at every woe. Faith's meanest deed more favour bears, JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. PLEASURE AND PAIN. @HO can determine the frontier of Pleasure? Where is experience repeated again? Ye who have felt the delirium of passion- To indicate each upon each as it hangs? I would believe not ;-for spirit will lanquish See the Fakeer as he swings on his iron, See the thin Hermit that starves in the wild; Think ye no pleasures the penance environ, And hope the sole bliss by which pain is beguiled? |