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"A stranger, ignorant of the trade,
For where's the middle, where's the border?
Quoth Dick, "My work is yet in bits:
But still in every part it fits:
Why, man, that carpet's inside out."
Says John, "Thou sayest the thing I mean,
This world, which clouds thy soul with doubt,
66 As when we view these shreds and ends,
"No plan, no pattern, can we trace;
"But when we reach the world of light,
"What now seem random strokes, will there
Then shall we praise what then we spurned,
For then the carpet will be turned."
"Thou'rt right," quoth Dick, "no more I'll grumble
That this world is so strange a jumble;
My impious doubts are put to flight,
own carpet sets me right."
WHAT IS TIME?
I ASKED an aged man, with hoary hairs,
Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled;
Of life had left its veins; "Time!" he replied;
I've lost it! ah, the treasure!"—and he died. I asked the golden sun and silver spheres, Those bright chronometers of days and years ; They answered, "Time is but a meteor glare," And bade me for Eternity prepare.
I asked the Seasons, in their annual round
""Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize!"
Consulted, and it made me this reply,—
I asked Old Father Time himself at last;
THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.
BY MRS. SOUTHEY.
TREAD Softly-bow the head-
No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul
Is passing now.
Stranger! however great,
With lowly reverence bow;
Beneath that beggar's roof,
Lo! Death doth keep his state;
Enter-no guards defend
This palace gate.
1 See Rev. X.
That pavement, damp and cold,
No mingling voices sound-
A sob suppressed—again
That short deep gasp, and then
The parting groan.
Oh! change-oh! wondrous change
Burst are the prison-bars,
This moment there, so low,
So agonised, and now
Beyond the stars!
Oh! change-stupendous change!
There lies the soulless clod:
The sun eternal breaks
The new immortal wakes
Wakes with his God.