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Ode for an Agricultural Celebration.
AR back in the ages,
The plough with wreaths was
The hands of kings and sages
Entwined the chaplet round;
The proud throne shall crumble,
The tribes of earth shall humble
The pride of those who reign;
Through endless generations,
And feeds the expectant nations.
W. C. BRYANT.
MOTHER'S love-how sweet the name!
What is a mother's love?
-A noble, pure, and tender flame,
Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mould :
The warmest love that can grow cold-
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
The infant, reared alone for earth,
May live, may die-to curse his birth;
A parent's heart may prove a snare ;
Her hand may lead, with gentlest care,
Blest infant! whom his mother taught
And poured upon his dawning thought
This was the lesson to her son,
Behold that mother's love.
Blest mother! who in Wisdom's path,
Thus taught her son to flee the wrath,
Ah! youth, like him enjoy your prime,
Begin Eternity in time,
Taught by that mother's love.
That mother's love!-how sweet the name!
What was that mother's love?
-The noblest, purest, tenderest flame,
That kindles from above,
TO THE MOON.
Within a heart of earthly mould,
This was that mother's love.
To the Moon.
ITH how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies,
Then, even of fellowship, O moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess?
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
[SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, the best and bravest of the noble train who surrounded the throne of the "Virgin Queen," the Bayard of the Elizabethan era, who, dying in the field at Zutphen, put away the cup of water from his parched lips, that it might refresh the soldier "whose need was greater than his," was an ardent lover of poetry, and the earliest and kindest patron of the author of the "Faerie Queene." His poetical works are confined to a few sonnets and short poems, but some of these are marvellous for the force of their language and the purity of their tone.]