August. A SUMMER DAY BY THE SEA. THE sun is set; and in his latest beams Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold, The falling mantle of the Prophet seems. From the dim headlands many a light-house gleams, The street-lamps of the ocean; and behold, O'erhead the banners of the night unfold; The day hath passed into the land of dreams. O summer day beside the joyous sea! O summer day so wonderful and white, To some the gravestone of a dead delight. The darkening foliage; the embrowning grain; the golden dragon-fly haunting the blackberry bushes; the cawing crows, that looked down from the mountain on the cornfield, and waited day after day for the scarecrow to finish his work and depart; and the smoke of far-off burning woods that pervaded the air and hung in purple haze about the summits of the mountain; these were the avant-couriers and attendants of the hot August. KAVANAGH. Ah, how bright the sun Strikes on the sea and on the masts of vessels, That are uplifted in the morning air, Like crosses of some peaceable crusade ! JOHN ENDICOTT, New England Tragedies. AUGUST 2. I may not know the purpose of my being . . . but I do know that my being has a purpose in the omniscience of my Creator, and that all my actions tend to the completion, to the full accomplishment of that purpose. OUTRE-MER. To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest, Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide, I dare not ask; I know not what is best; TO-MORROW. Thou hast the patience and the faith of Saints ! JOHN ENDICOTT, New England Tragedies. |