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For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.
Thus fares it still in our decay;
And yet the wiser mind
Than what it leaves behind.
The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife: they see
Is beautiful and free.
But we are pressed by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.
If there be one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own
It is the man of mirth.
My days, my friend, are almost gone,
My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none
Am I enough beloved.”— “Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains !
Upon these happy plains.
I'll be a son to thee !” —
“Alas! that cannot be.” –
We rose up from the fountain-side,
And down the smooth descent
And through the wood we went;
And ere we came to Leonard's Rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
FROM INDIA. “Oh, come you from the Indies, and, soldier, can you tell Aught of the gallant 90th, and who are safe and well ? O soldier, say my son is safe, (for nothing else I care,) And you shall have a mother's thanks-shall have a widow's
“Oh, I've come from the Indies, I've just come from the
war, And well I know the 90th, and gallant lads they are: From colonel down to rank and file, I know my comrades
well, And news I've brought for you, mother, your Robert bade
“And do you know my Robert now! oh, tell me, tell me
trueO soldier, tell me word for word all that he said to you! His very words—my own boy's words—0 tell me every
one! You little know how dear to his old mother is my son!”
“Through Havelock's fights and marches the 90th were
there; In all the gallant 90th did, your Robert did his share : Twice he went into Lucknow, untouched by steel or ball; And you may bless your God, old dame, that brought him
safe through all.”
“Oh, thanks unto the living God, that heard his mother's
prayer, The widow's cry that rose on high her only son to spare ! O bless'd be God, that turned from him the sword and shot
away!And what to his old mother did my darling bid you say ?”
“Mother, he saved his colonel's life, and bravely it was
done; In the despatch they told it all, and named and praised your
son : A medal and a pension's his; good luck to him, I say ; And he has not a comrade but will wish him well to-day.”
“Now, soldier, blessings on your tongue !-0 husband, that
you knew How well our boy pays me this day for all that I've gone
through ; All I have done and borne for him the long years since
you're dead! But, soldier, tell me how he looked, and all my Robert
“He's bronzed, and tanned, and bearded, and you'd hardly
know him, dame: We've made your boy into a man, but still his heart's the
same; For often, dame, his talk's of you, and always to one tune;But there, his ship is nearly home, and he'll be with you
“Oh! is he really coming home, and shall I really see My boy again, my own boy, home? and when, when will it
EVENING PRAYER AT A GIRLS' SCHOOL.
Hush ! 'tis a holy hour !—the quiet room
Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom
And the sweet stillness, down on bright young heads, With all their clustering locks untouched by care, And bowed—as flowers are bowed with night-in prayer.
Gaze on !—'tis lovely !-childhood's lip and cheek
Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought! Gaze! yet what seest thou in those fair and meek
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought? Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky, What death must fashion for eternity!
O joyous creatures ! that will sink to rest
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done, As birds with slumber's honey-dew oppressed,
'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun,Lift up your hearts ! though yet no sorrow lies Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes.
Though fresh within your breasts the untroubled springs
Of hope make melody where'er ye tread,
Of spirits visiting but youth be spread,
Her lot is on you !-silent tears to weep;
A patient smile to wear through suffering's hour;
To pour on broken reeds a wasted shower;
Her lot is on you !-to be found untired,
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain; Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And, oh! to love through all things therefore pray!
And take the thought of this calm vesper-time,
With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light, On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight !
WE'LL BIDE TOGETHER.
Who ne'er for years had wept,
The little outcast slept ;
Of sorrow and neglect,
That orphan child protect.
“Poor bird, the bitter weather,
Please God, we'll bide together.”
A smile was on the old man's face,
He wore a look of pride,
Came tripping by his side.
"Ah! Heaven was kind to me,"
My joy in age to be.
And feel this balmy weather,
Thank Heaven! we bide together.”