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Where are the dusky miners ? — they
Know well the night before their May
To them 't is still a joy, I ween,
To know, while through the darkness going, That o'er their heads the smiling queen
Stands with her countless garlands glowing.
O ye who toil in living tombs
Of light, or dark, no rest receiving,
Far o'er your heads a May-time blooms,—
Be patient; when earth's winter fails,—
The weary night, which keeps ye staying,—
Then through the broad celestial vales
T. B. Read
SUMMER is a glorious season,
To despise the present:
And the log lights up the hall,
Spring, no doubt, hath faded from us,
Maiden-like in charms;
Perished in our arms:
Whom our hearts recall,
True, there's scarce a flower that bloometh,—
All the best are dead;
Yonder garden bed;
Hangs its coral ball:
Summer trees are pretty,— very,
And I love them well;
None of those excel.
And the ivy clothes the wall,
Sunny hours in every season
Wait the innocent; —
What their God has sent;
Nor too lowly fall,
Then, although our darling treasures
Vanish from the heart;
One by one depart;
And the mourning pall,
D. F. Macarthy
AS the hardy oat is growing,
Whether shines the sun or no : —
Should the strong plant, Duty, grow,—
D. F. Macarthy
THE lights o'er yonder snowy range,
Before the dying eyes of day
Immortal visions wander; Dreams prescient of a purer ray,
And morn spread still beyond her.
Lo! heavenward now those gleams expire,
In heavenly melancholy,
Relinquishing them slowly.
Thus shine, O God! our mortal powers,
And when in death they fade, be ours
A. De Vere
ONCE more, through God's high will and grace,
Who knows not Spring? who doubts when blows
The swallow doubts not; nor the rose
Once more the cuckoo's call I hear;
I know, in many a glen profound, The earliest violets of the year
Rise up like water from the ground.
The thorn, I know, once more is white;
And far down many a forest dale, The anemones in dubious light
Are trembling like a bridal veil.
By streams released that surging flow
From craggy shelf, through sylvan glades.
The pale narcissus, well I know,
Smiles hour by hour on greener shades.
The honeyed cowslip tufts once more
The primrose stars the rock, and o'er