"NATURE'S CARE TO ALL HER CHILDREN JUST, WITH RICHER TREASURES AND AN AMPLER STATE "I AM AS FREE AS NATURE FIRST MADE man, A DOUBTING HEART. 247 Then I heard a strain of music, Of mingled voices and strings, On Music's outspread wings. And I heard it float farther and farther, Farther than soul can reach. And I know that at last my Message So my heart is no longer restless, And I am content to wait. [ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. This amiable poetess, the daughter of a poet (Bryan Waller Proctor, better known by his nom de plume of "Barry Cornwall"), was born in 1825, and died, in the very promise of her powers, in 1864. Her poems, all characterized by delicacy of sentiment and depth of feeling, have been collected in two volumes. "The Message" is given in an abridged form.] ENDOWS AT LARGE WHATEVER HAPPY MAN WILL DEIGN TO USE THEM FITLY!"-MARK AKENSIDE. Perchance upon some bleak and stormy Oh, doubting heart! Far over purple seas, The balmy southern breeze, To bring them to their northern home once more. WHEN WILD IN WOODS THE NOBLE SAVAGE RAN."-DRyden. "BY MUSIC, MINDS AN EQUAL TEMPER KNOw, nor swell TOO HIGH NOR SINK TOO Low."-Alexander pope. 248 "REASON'S WHOLE PLEASURE, ALL THE JOYS OF SENSE, A DOUBTING HEART. Why must the flowers die? In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. Oh, doubting heart! The soft white ermine snow While winter winds shall blow, The sun has hid its rays Will dreary hours never leave the earth! Oh, doubting heart! The stormy clouds on high That soon-for spring is nigh Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. Fair hope is dead, and light Is quenched in night. What sound can break the silence of despair? Oh, doubting heart! The sky is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air. [ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. From her "Legends and Lyrics."] LIE IN THREE WORDS-HEALTH, PEACE, AND COMPETENCE."-POPE. "FOR MODES OF FAITH LET GRACELESS ZEALOTS FIGHT; HIS CAN'T BE WRONG WHOSE LIFE IS IN THE RIGHT."-POPE. "GO FORTH INTO THE OPEN SKY, AND LIST TO NATURE'S TEACHINGS."-W. CULLEN BRYANT. "THE POETRY OF EARTH IS CEASING NEVER."-KEATS. [Rev. JOHN KEBLE, Vicar of Hursley, in Hampshire, died in 1867. He is best known by his "Lyra Innocentium," and his fine volume of devotional poetry, "The Christian Year."] EARTH, WITH HER THOUSAND VOICES, PRAISES GOD."-COLERIDGE. "LEAVE THE VAIN LOW STRIFE THAT MAKES MEN MAD-THE TUG FOR WEALTH AND POWER."-BRYANT. "MAN WEAVES, AND IS CLOTHED WITH DERISION; SOWS, AND HE SHALL NOT REAP 250 HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! THOUGH TO-DAY BE DARK, BARBARA. BARBARA. N the Sabbath day, Through the churchyard old and gray, Over the crisp and yellow leaves I held my rustling way; And amid the words of mercy, falling on my soul like balms; 'Mong the upward streaming prayers, and the rich and solemn I stood heedless, Barbara! My heart was otherwhere While the organ filled the air, And the priest, with outstretched hands, blessed the people But when rising to go homeward, with a mild and saint-like Gleamed a face of airy beauty with its heavenly eyes on mine— thine, Oh, the face was like to Fre you perished, Barbara! Oh, that pallid face! Those sweet, earnest eyes of grace! When last I saw them dearest, it was in another place; You came running forth to meet me, with my love-gift on your wrist, And a cursed river killed thee, aided by a murderous mist. When last I saw thee, Barbara! THE SWEET SUN BURST MAY SMILE TO-MORROW."-MASSEY. HIS LIFE IS A WATCH OR A VISION BETWEEN A SLEEP AND A SLEEP."-A. C. SWINBURNE. "WHAT MARTIAL MUSIC IS TO MARCHING MEN SHOULD SONG BE TO HUMANITY; These dreary years eleven Have you pined within your heaven, And is this the only glimpse of earth that in that time was And have you passed unheeded all the fortunes of your race- 'Mong angels, do you think Of the precious golden link I bound around your happy arm while sitting on yon brink? In the years I've changed; Wild and far my heart has ranged, And many sins and errors deep have been on me avenged; O Love! I am unblest; With monstrous doubts opprest Of much that's dark and nether, much that's holiest and best. more Than the melancholy world doth know-things deeper than all lore, Will you teach me, Barbara? SONGS HEARD IN HEAVEN BY THE BREeathless STARS."-ALEX. SMITH. IN SONG THE INFANT AGES BORN AND SWATHED ARE."-ALEXANDER SMITH. |