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Unchanged in soul I wandered back—
I thought upon its' cheerful hearth,
And felt, of all I'd seen on earth,
Blow, blow, thou winter wind!
As man's ingratitude:
Although thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky!
As benefits forgot:
As friends remembered not.
TAT.TTTTA CUMI! *
The mother spoke;
The child awoke.
In sweet dreams folded
At dawn of day,
The maiden lay:
* Talitha, in the dialect of the people, a term of endearment used towards a young maiden."—Dean Alford on "St. Mark's Gospel."
The fair lids rounded
In calm repose; Long lashes shading
The cheek's soft rose:
The lips half parted,
Damsel, arise!" And slowly opened
Those happy eyes.
In deep sleep buried,
At close of day, Silent and pallid
The maiden lay:
In the heart no beating,
Placid but rigid,
No gentle heavings
Of even breath;
"Not sleep, but death!"
No need for hushing
No wailings will trouble
No wild lamentings
No tumult of minstrels
Silence those death-wails
Of wild despair! "Not dead, but sleeping!"
The Life is there!
Gentle His accents,
Mother, as thine; Yet Galilee's tempests
Know them Divine.
Kingly, He chaseth
The mocking band; Softly He toucheth
The clay-cold hand.
Damsel, arise!" And slowly open
Those death-sealed eyes!
With a name of endearment,
Tender and soft,
From sleep with it oft),
He calls her spirit,
Beyond the tombs, "Talitha Cumi!"—
She hears and comes.
And the gates of Hades,
The gates of brass, Which through the ages
None living pass,
Before those accents
Quake as with thunder, Quiver like aspens,
And part asunder; •
Open like flowers
Yet through |
The soul of
The dead a v.
THE WELL 01
The King was faint \\
Of Bethlehem afar.
When, as the custon His mother went aloin
By moonlight to the Even in the desert hot He felt again the toui'i He heard the murmur
That wave beside tl
Fair vision this, for war At hirst and weary fron
MISERIES OP ROYALTY.
> Hard condition, twin-born with greatness,
Vud what have kings that privates have not too,
0 ceremony, show me but thy worth!
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being feared
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poisoned flattery? Oh, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation 1
Will it give place to flexure and low bending 1
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
1 am a king that find thee; and I know
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body filled, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread: