Town and Country; Or, Life at Home and Abroad Part 11

Let us, then, push on the car. Let our influence be such as will advance, and not r.e.t.a.r.d, its progress. Let us do this, and ere long we may rejoice together, and earth hold a grand jubilee, and all men shall testify that the Pledge is the "hope of the fallen."

THOUGHTS THAT COME FROM LONG AGO.

THERE are moments in our life When are hushed its sounds of strife; When, from busy toil set free, Mind goes back the past to see: Memory, with its mighty powers, Brings to view our childhood hours; Once again we romp and play, As we did in youth's bright day; And, with never-ceasing flow, Come the hours of Long Ago.

Oft, when pa.s.sions round us throng, And our steps incline to wrong, Memory brings a friend to view, In each line and feature true; Though he long hath left us here, Then his presence seemeth near, And with sweet, persuasive voice, Leads us from an evil choice;-- Thus, when we astray would go, Come restraints from Long Ago.

Oft, when troubled and perplexed, Worn in heart and sorely vexed; Almost sinking 'neath our load, Famis.h.i.+ng on life's high road,-- Darkness, doubt, and dark despair Leading us we know not where,-- How hath sweet remembrance caught From the past some happy thought!

And, refreshed, we on would go, Cheered with hopes from Long Ago.

What a store-house, filled with gems Of more worth than diadems, Each hath 'neath his own control, From which to refresh his soul!

Let us, then, each action weigh, Some good deed perform each day, That in future we may find Happy thoughts to bring to mind; For, with ever ceaseless flow, Thoughts will come from Long Ago.

DETERMINED TO BE RICH.

RISE up early, sit up late, Be thou unto Avarice sold; Watch thou well at Mammon's gate, Just to gain a little gold.

Crush thy brother neath thy feet, Till each manly thought is flown; Hear not, though he loud entreat, Be thou deaf to every moan.

Wield the lash, and hush the cry, Let thy conscience now be seared; Pile thy glittering gems on high, Till thy golden G.o.d is reared.

Then before its sparkling shrine Bend the neck and bow the knee; Victor thou, all wealth is thine, Yet, what doth it profit thee?

THE HEAVEN SENT, HEAVEN RETURNED.

PURE as an infant's heart that sin ne'er touched, That guilt had ne'er polluted; and she seemed Most like an angel that had missed its way On some kind mission Heaven had bade it go.

Her eye beamed bright with beauty; and innocence, Its dulcet notes breathed forth in every word, Was seen in every motion that she made.

Her form was faultless, and her golden hair In long luxuriant tresses floated o'er Her shoulders, that as alabaster shone.

Her very look seemed to impart a sense Of matchless purity to all it met.

I saw her in the crowd, yet none were there That seemed so pure as she; and every eye That met her eye's mild glance shrank back abashed, It spake such innocence.

One day she slept,-- How calm and motionless! I watched her sleep Till evening; then, until the sun arose; And then, would have awakened her,--but friends Whispered in my ear she would not wake Within that body more, for it was dead, And she, now clothed in immortality, Would know no more of change, nor know a care.

And when I felt that truth, methought I saw A bright angelic throng, in robes of white, Bear forth her spirit to the throne of G.o.d; And I heard music, such as comes to us Oft in our dreams, as from some unseen life, And holy voices chanting heavenly songs, And harps and voices blending in one hymn, Eternal hymn of highest praise to G.o.d For all the good the Heaven-sent one had done Since first it left the heavenly fold of souls, To live on earth, and show to lower man How pure and holy, joyous and serene, They may and shall a.s.suredly become When all the laws that G.o.d through Nature speaks Are kept unbroken! * * *

* * * She had now returned, And heaven resounded with angelic songs.

Before me lay the cold, unmoving form; Above me lived the joyous, happy one!

And who should sorrow? Sure, not I; not she; Not any one! For death,--there was no death,-- But that which men called death was life more real Than heart had o'er conceived or words expressed!

FLOWERS, BRIGHT FLOWERS!

FLOWERS from the wild-wood, Flowers, bright flowers!

Springing in desert spot, Where man dwelleth not,-- Flowers, bright flowers, Cheering the traveller's lot.

Given to one and all, Flowers, bright flowers!

When man neglecteth thee, When he rejecteth thee, Flowers, bright flowers, G.o.d's hand protecteth thee!

Remnants of paradise, Flowers, bright flowers!

Tinged with a heavenly hue, Reflecting its azure blue, Flowers, bright flowers, Brightest earth ever knew!

Cheering the desolate, Flowers, bright flowers!

Coming with fragrance fraught, From Heaven's own breezes caught, Flowers, bright flowers, Teachers of holy thought!

Borne to the curtained room, Flowers, bright flowers!

Where the sick longs for light, Then, for the shades of night, Flowers, bright flowers, Gladdening the wearied sight!

High on the mountain-top, Flowers, bright flowers!

Low in sequestered vale, On cliff, mid rock, in dale, Flowers, bright flowers, Ye do prevail!

FORGET ME NOT.

FORGET me not when other lips Shall whisper love to thee; Forget me not when others twine Their chaplets for thy brow; Forget me not, for I am thine, Forever onward true as now, As long as time shall be.

There may be words thou mayest doubt, But when I tell thee "I am thine,"

Believe the heart's a.s.surance true, In sorrow and in mirth Forever it doth turn to you, Confiding, trusting in thy worth.

Thou wilt, I know, be mine.