I felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,-- O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer! Descend with broad-winged flight, The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, The best-beloved Night! A PSALM OF LIFE. WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, A PSALM OF LIFE. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Let us, then, be up and doing, THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. They shall all bloom in fields of light, And saints, upon their garments white, And the mother gave, in tears and pain, She knew she should find them all again O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 'Twas an angel visited the green earth, THE night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven, Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? And earnest thoughts within me rise, When I behold afar, Suspended in the evening skies, O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again. Within my breast there is no light, I give the first watch of the night. The star of the unconquered will, And calm, and self-possessed. And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, O fear not in a world like this, |