I know not how others saw her, And the light of the heaven she came from And as many changes took As the shadows of sun-gilt ripples To what can I liken her smiling Till her outstretched hands smiled also, The very heart of her mother Sending sun through her veins to me. She had been with us scarce a twelvemonth, But they left in her stead a changeling- That seems like her bud in full blossom, As weak, yet as trustful also; Earth whirls, and all but to prosper This child is not mine, as the first was; I cannot sing it to rest; I cannot lift it up fatherly, And bless it upon my breast. It is strangely unlike my darling, Yet it lies in my little one's chair, And the light of the heaven she's gone to -F. R. Lowell. 66 LONDON CHURCHES. LONDON CHURCHES. I STOOD, one Sunday morn, Her hand was on a prayer-book, For her the obsequious beadle Her footsteps seemed to glide. But after her, a woman The few free seats were crowded God's house holds no poor sinners!" -R. M. Milnes. 99 THE GLOW-WORM. OH! what is this which shines so bright, Hangs out his small green lamp at night, It is a glow-worm still and pale: And so amid the world's cold night, Shines out the humble Christian's light, -W. L. Bowles. TO THE EAGLE. BIRD of the broad and sweeping wing, Where wide the storms their banners fling, And hoary peaks, that proudly prop TO THE EAGLE. Thou sittest, like a thing of light, The midday sun is clear and bright, Thy pinions to the rushing blast, Thou art perched aloft on the beetling crag, Again thou hast plumed thy wing for flight And away, like a spirit wreathed in light, Thou hurriest over the myriad waves, Thou sweepest that place of unknown graves, When the night storm gathers dim and dark, Thou rushest by the foundering bark Quick as a passing stream. Lord of the boundless realm of air, In thy imperial name The hearts of the bold and ardent dare The dangerous path of fame. Beneath the shade of thy golden wings, From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs For thee they fought, for thee they fell, Thou wert, through an age of death and fears, Till the gathered rage of a thousand years Burst forth in one awful hour. ΟΙ |