THE WOUNDED CURLEW.

And in his prison limits frets and strives.

His ancient self to be.

The little sandpipers about him play;

The shining waves they skim,

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Or round his feet they seek their food, and stay

As if to comfort him.

My pity cannot help him, though his plaint
Brings tears of wistfulness;

Still must he grieve and mourn, forlorn and faint,
None may his wrong redress.

O bright-eyed boy! was there no better way

A moment's joy to gain,

Than to make sorrow that must mar the day
With such despairing pain?

O children, drop the gun, the cruel stone!

O listen to my words,

And hear with me the wounded curlew moan

Have mercy on the birds!

C. THAXTER..

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NEW YEAR HYMN.

NEW YEAR HYMN.

SUNLIGHT of the heavenly day,
Mighty to revive and cheer!
Bless our yet untrodden way,

Lead us through the entered year.
Where the shades of death we see,
Let Thy living brightness be;
Let it speed our lingering feet;
Let it shine on all we meet.

Forward, though our path be hid,
Though we pass the lurking foe,
Though the sound of war forbid,
Girt with gladness, let us go;
Bold in Thy protecting care,
Strong to prove Thee faithful there,
Through the desert or the sea,

On, to find our home in Thee.

Open Thou beneath our tread

Springs, the distance could not show;

From the holy fountain-head

Let them rise where'er we go:

NEW YEAR HYMN.

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Rather, give us eyes to see,—
Love, awake to love in Thee;
Hearts that, trusting to Thy care,
Find its traces everywhere.

In the shadow of Thy hand

We can brave the uprooting gale,

And a little child may stand

Where the soldier's heart would fail;

When the stormy wind is heard,

Quick to every tender word;

And for all our journey's length

Armed with meekness more than strength.

Oft a desolating blast

Bears the seed of comfort too,

And the patient soul at last

Finds a garden where it blew;
So, where nothing cheers our sight,
Germs of love may spring to light.
Bright 'mid earth's oppressive shades,
Fresh beside the leaf that fades.

A. L. WARING.

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WEDDED LOVE.

WEDDED LOVE..

AND if the husband or the wife,
In home's strong light discovers
Such slight defects as failed to meet
The blinded eyes of lovers,

Why need we care to ask? Who dreams
Without their thorns, of roses;

Or wonders that the truest steel

The readiest spark discloses?

For still in mutual sufferance lies

The secret of true living;

Love scarce is love that never knows

The sweetness of forgiving.

J. G. WHITTIER.

CENTENNIAL ODE.

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CENTENNIAL ODE.

AN Hundred Years! And Nature never old,
Still, day by day, orders her myriad works.
The sun rolls on in flaming splendor, from
Air and earth and water, calling forth the
Innumerable mysteries of life;

The moon gilds grassy slope and wild ravine
And restless sea; all the stars of heaven
Rise and set and rise again; rivers flow,
Bringing the drift and pebbles from the far
Snow-mantled mountains; ocean's bosom swells
And sinks; the seasons change; and all moves on
As in the years gone by.

A Century

In the long ages of Creation's course,

Is but the flash of passing bird, the swing

Of pendulum, the ripple of a wave.

Ten thousand thousand years has Nature's force
Transformed the elements, and carrying on
A vast, diversified, ordainéd plan,

Prepared this home for occupation;

Has embellished it with beauties countless
As the glittering sands on Afric's desert.