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Shall we not mid the silence

Hear voices, sweet and low,
Speak the old familiar language,
The words of long ago?

Shall we not see dear faces,

Sweet smiling as of old,
Till the mists of that lone chamber

Are sunset clouds of gold ?
When age has cast its shadows

O'er life's declining way,
And evening twilight gathers
Round our retiring day.



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A VOICE within us speaks the startling word,

Man, thou shalt never die!" celestial voices Hymn it unto our souls : according harps, By angel fingers touched, when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality.


The Builders.

ALL are architects of Fate,

Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great,

Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, nor low;

Each thing in its place is best, And what seems but idle show

Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,

Time is with materials filled ; Our to-days and yesterdays

Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these ;

Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees,

Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part;

For the gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well,

Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where gods may dwell,

Beautiful, entire, and clean.
Else our lives are incomplete,

Standing in these walls of Time -
Broken stairways, where the feet

Stumble as they seek to climb.
Build to-day, then, strong and sure,

With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure

Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain

To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.


Xoung Thoughts.

Young thoughts have music in them :- love And happiness their theme.


A Bright Chought.

I HAVE seen change—though youth is on my

brow, I have seen change. I've trod the glittering

way Of the loud throng—and lived in lighted halls; Fate too, has called me to another scene, And time has brought its trial. I have passed To life's extremest quiet, and laid down In thankfulness of spirit, that my heart Found joy in that sweet silence. I have said, Let the world heave on in its ocean-noise, I ask but friends and home-and if to these Heaven add the boon of love, my lot is full, And rapture yet may light my pilgrimage.


Woman's Sympathy.

How sweet is woman's love, is woman's care! When struck and shattered in a stormy hour, We droop forlorn, and man, with Stoic air, Neglects, or roughly aids,—then, robed in

power,-Then Nature's angel seeks the mourner's bower.

GALLEY Knight.

Life is but a Gleam.

This life is but a gleam,

A fountain's spray,
An echo, or a dream,-

Passing away.
A shadow quickly past,

One hour of day,
A flake on ocean cast,
Passing away.


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