ODE.-INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY. Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts, before which our mortal nature Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Uphold us-cherish and have power to make Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Hence, in a season of calm weather, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon X. Then, sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! As to the tabor's sound! We, in thought, will join your throng, Ye that through your hearts to-day 61 What though the radiance which was once so bright Though nothing can bring back the hour Strength is what remains behind, Which having been, must ever be; Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. XI. And, oh, ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the brooks, which down their channels fret The clouds that gather round the setting sun That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; THE DAY IS DONE. H. W. LONGFELLOW. THE day is done, and the darkness I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, A feeling of sadness and longing, And resembles sorrow only, As the mist resembles the rain. THE DAY IS DONE. Come, read to me some poem— Not from the grand old masters, For, like strains of martial music, Read from some humbler poet, Who, through long days of labour, Such songs have power to quiet Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away. 63 THE WILD GEESE. T. D'ARCY M'GEE. "WHAT is the cry so wildly heard, 66 Why cries the northern bird so wild? "And why does not the wild bird fly Straight homeward through the open air? I see no barriers in the sky; Why does she sit lamenting there?" "My child, the laws of life and death "Reads and obeys-more wise than manAnd meekly steers for other climes, Obeys the providential plan, And humbly waits for happier times. "The spring that makes the poets sing, Will whisper in the wild bird's ear, And swiftly back, on willing wing, The wild bird to the north will steer." "Will they come back, of whom that song Last night was sung, that made you weep?" "Oh! God is good, and hope is strong :My son, let's pray, and then to sleep." |