Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile ;) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might But no! What here we call our life is such, Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast While airs impregnated with incense play But higher far my proud pretensions rise- And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, Smooth, snail, list'n'd, list'ns, list'n'st, spear, spleen, spring, asps, clasp'd, stead, strong, tastes, tast'st. Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, Hold all that enters thy unbreathing reign. Far in thy realm withdrawn, Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom; And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, manhood, — age, that draws us to the ground, And last, man's life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. Thou hast my better years, Thou hast my early friends- the good—the kind, Yielded to thee with tears And struggles hard to wring Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence. In vain thy gates deny All passage, save to those who hence depart; Thou giv'st them back-nor to the broken heart. In thy abysses hide Beauty and excellence unknown to thee : Earth's wonder and her pride Are gathered, as the waters to the sea; Labors of good to man, Unpublished charity, unbroken faith Love, that 'midst grief began, - And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered; . With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared. Thine, for a space, are they Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last; Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past! All that of good and fair Has gone into thy womb, from earliest time, The glory and the beauty of its prime. They have not perished-no! Kind words, remembered voices, once so sweet, And features, the great soul's apparent seat; Of All shall come back, each tie pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall evil die, And sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, And her, who, still and cold, LESSON LXIX. EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. Length'n, length'n'd, length'n'dst, length'ns, truths, throne, smooth'd, smooths, smooth'st. Better Moments. N. P. WILLIS. My mother's voice! how often creep I can forget her melting prayer But in the still, unbroken air, Her gentle tones come stealing by, And years, and sin, and manhood, flee, And leave me at my mother's knee. The book of nature, and the print Of what I have been taught to be. My manliness hath drunk up tears, I have been out, at eventide, With wilder fleetness, thronged the night; When all was beauty-then have I, With friends on whom my love is flung, Like myrrh on winds of Araby, Gazed up where evening's lamp is hung. And when the beauteous spirit there Then, as on childhood's bended knee, |