I know the time shall come
When, through the charnel dumb,

A voice shall ring upon the slumbering ear;
These bones shall startle then,

And feel strange life agen,

And these decaying fibers leap to hear.

W. G. CLARK.

Death seemed all-conquering when he bound
The Lord of life in prison;

The might of Death was nowhere found
When Christ again was risen;
Wherefore praise him night and day,
Him who took Death's sting away!

ANONYMOUS.

turf

That time shall heap upon them all in vain; Or struggle upward from the stormy surf, So I be buried in the mighty main. Yes, 'tis not long ere I shall shake the clay That years have matted on my mouldered

brow,

And tear the cerements of the grave away With these same muscles that are lusty now.

A. C. COXE.

Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,

As if thy waves since time was born,
Since first they rolled upon the Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
Nor started at the bugle-horn.
Unlike the tide of human time,

Which, though it change in ceaseless flow, Retains each grief, retains each crime,

Its earliest course was doomed to know; And darker as it downward bears, Is stained with past and present years. W. SCOTT.

- RIVERS.

River! river! headlong river!
Down you dash unto the sea;
Sea, that line hath never sounded;
Sea, that voyage hath never rounded;
Like unto eternity!

MRS. SOUTHEY.

O! I have thought, and thinking sighed,
How like to thee, thou restless tide!
May be the lot, the life of him
Who roams along thy water's brim!
Through what alternate shades of woe,
And flowers of joy, my path may go!
How many a humble, still retreat,
May rise to court my weary feet,
While still pursuing, still unblest,
I wander on, nor dare to rest!

MOORE.

River! in this still hour thou hast
Too much of heaven on earth to last;
Nor long may thy still waters lie,
An image of the glorious sky.
Thy fate and mine are not repose,
And ere another evening close,
Thou to thy tides shalt turn again,
And I to seek the crowd of men.

BRYANT.

And I shall sleep, and on thy side
As ages after ages glide,
Children their early sports shall try,
And pass to hoary age, and die.
But thou, unchanged from year to year,
Gayly shalt play and glitter here;
And, singing down thy narrow glen,
Shalt mock the fading race of men.

BRYANT.

Oft in sadness and in illness, I have watched thy current glide,

Till the beauty of its stillness overflowed me like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter, when I

saw thy waters gleam,

I have felt my heart beat lighter, and leap onward with thy stream.

Thou hast taught me, silent river! many a lesson, deep and long;

Thou hast been a generous giver; I can give thee but a song.

LONGFELLOW.