Let both their true reality impart, And fix their record deeply in my heart, Lord, keep my memory green! Lord, keep my memory green Through life's conflicting scene! But should the hand of Time obliterate ""T is Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize!" I asked a spirit lost, but O the shriek That pierced my soul! I shudder while I speak. Aught from my mind, and some chance pages blot, Of endless years, duration infinite!' Lord, keep my memory green! THE ROSE-BUSH. ANONYMOUS. A CHILD sleeps under a rose-bush fair, A maiden stands by the rose-bush fair, A mother kneels by the rose-bush fair, And the years glide by. Naked and lone stands the rose-bush fair, From the German, by WILLIAM W. CALDWELL. WHAT IS TIME? I ASKED an aged man, with hoary hairs, I asked the Seasons, in their annual round, - Of things inanimate my dial I I asked old Father Time himself at last ; One foot on sea and one on solid land: In a thousand pounds of law I find not a single | Compared to a tree's foliage: in its prime, ounce of love; A mass of dark, impenetrable shade, A blind man killed the parson's cow in shooting It veils the distant view; but day by day, at the dove; As autumn's breath is felt, the falling leaves, The fool that eats till he is sick must fast till he Opening a passage for the doubtful light, is well; Exhibit to the gazer more and more The wooer who can flatter most will bear away Of that which lies beyond — till winter comes, the belle. And through the skeleton branches we behold The clear, blue vault of day! "Let no man halloo he is safe till he is through the wood; He who will not when he may, must tarry when he should; He who laughs at crooked men should need walk very straight; O, he who once has won a name may lie abed ANONYMOUS. THE Soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, made. EDMUND WALLER THE THREE WARNINGS. THE tree of deepest root is found This great affection to believe, Be pleased to hear a modern tale. When sports went round, and all were gay, What more he urged I have not heard, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke - Of cruelty upon my name, Willing for once I'll quit my prey, And grant a kind reprieve, In hopes you'll have no more to say, But when I call again this way, Well pleased the world will leave." To these conditions both consented, And parted perfectly contented. What next the hero of our tale befell, And smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse, He chaffered, then he bought and sold, Nor thought of Death as near: He passed his hours in peace. Brought on his eightieth year. And now, one night, in musing mood, The unwelcome messenger of Fate Half killed with anger and surprise, "So soon returned!" Old Dodson cries. "So soon, d' ye call it!" Death replies ; "Surely, my friend, you 're but in jest! Since I was here before 'T is six-and-thirty years at least, And you are now fourscore." "So much the worse," the clown rejoined ; "To spare the aged would be kind : However, see your search be legal ; And your authority, is 't regal? Else you are come on a fool's errand, With but a secretary's warrant. Beside, you promised me three warnings, Which I have looked for nights and mornings; But for that loss of time and ease I can recover damages." "I know," cries Death, "that at the best I seldom am a welcome guest; But don't be captious, friend, at least: I little thought you 'd still be able To stump about your farm and stable : Your years have run to a great length; I wish you joy, though, of your strength!" "Hold," says the farmer, "not so fast! I have been lame these four years past." |