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AMONG SO many, can He care?
Can special love be everywhere?
A myriad homes, -a myriad ways,
And God's eye over every place.

Over; but in? The world is full;
A grand omnipotence must rule;
But is there life that doth abide
With mine own living, side by side?

So many, and so wide abroad:
Can any heart have all of God?
From the great spaces, vague and dim,
May one small household gather Him?

I asked: my soul bethought of this:-
In just that very place of his
Where He hath put and keepeth you,
God hath no other thing to do!

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We watched it glide from the silver sands, | A scar, brought from some well-won field, And all our sunshine grew strangely Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. dark.

We know she is safe on the farther side, Where all the ransomed and angels be; Over the river, the mystic river,

My childhood's idol is waiting for me.

For none return from those quiet shores, Who cross with the boatman cold and pale;

We hear the dip of the golden oars,
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,-
And lo! they have passed from our yearn-
ing heart;

They cross the stream, and are gone for

We may not sunder the veil apart,

That hides from our vision the gates of day.

We only know that their barks no more May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,

They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.

And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold,

Is flushing river, and hill, and shore, I shall one day stand by the water cold, And list for the sound of the boatman's

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The look, the air, that frets thy sight
May be a token that below
The soul has closed in deadly fight
With some infernal fiery foe,
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling

And cast thee shuddering on thy face!

The fall thou darest to despise, —
Has suffered it, that he may rise
May be the angel's slackened hand

And take a firmer, surer stand;
Or, trusting less to earthly things,
May henceforth learn to use his wings.

And judge none lost; but wait and see,
With hopeful pity, not disdain;
The depth of the abyss may be

The measure of the height of pain
And love and glory that may raise
This soul to God in after days!


Do not cheat thy heart, and tell her
"Grief will pass away;
Hope for fairer times in future,
And forget to-day."

Tell her, if you will, that Sorrow

Need not come in vain; Tell her that the lesson taught her Far outweighs the pain.

Cheat her not with the old comfort (Soon she will forget);Bitter truth,-alas! but matter

Rather for regret.

Bid her not seek other pleasures,
Turn to other things;
Rather, nurse her cagéd Sorrow
Till the captive sings.

Bid her rather go forth bravely,
And the stranger greet,

Not as foe, with shield and buckler,
But as dear friends meet.

Bid her with a strong grasp hold her

By the dusky wings,

And she 'll whisper, low and gently, Blessings that she brings.

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Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out of sight.

Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, And where the woodbine shed upon the porch

On slumb'rous wings the vulture held Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood

his flight;

The dove scarce heard its sighing mate's complaint;

And like a star slow drowning in the light, The village church-vane seemed to pale and faint.

The sentinel-cock upon the hillside crew, Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before,

Silent till some replying warder blew

His alien horn, and then was heard no


Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall


Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged young,


Firing the floor with his inverted torch;

Amid all this, the centre of the scene, The white-haired matron with monotonous tread,

Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien,

Sat, like a Fate, and watched the flying thread.

She had known Sorrow, - he had walked with her,

Oft supped and broke the bitter ashen


And in the dead leaves still he heard the stir

Of his black mantle trailing in the dust.

While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,

Her country summoned and she gave her all;

And twice War bowed to her his sable plume,

Regave the swords to rust upon her wall.

Regave the swords, but not the hand that drew

And struck for Liberty its dying blow, Nor him who, to his sire and country true, Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe.

Long, but not loud, the droning wheel

went on,

Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune.

At last the thread was snapped : her head was bowed;

Life dropt the distaff through his hands


And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud,

While death and winter closed the autumn scene.


I sat and spun within the doore,
My thread brake off, I raised myne


The level sun, like ruddy ore,

Lay sinking in the barren skies;
And dark against day's golden death
She moved where Lindis wandereth,
My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth.

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews were falling,
Farre away I heard her song.
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along;
Where the reedy Lindis floweth,
Floweth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth
Faintly came her milking song.

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
"For the dews will soon be falling;
Leave your meadow grasses mellow,

Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Comme uppe Whitefoot, come uppe

Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,
From the clovers lift your head;
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe

Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,
Jetty, to the milking-shed.”

If it be long, aye, long ago,

When I beginne to think howe long,

THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF Againe I hear the Lindis flow,


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Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong; And all the aire it seemeth me Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), That ring the tune of Enderby.

Alle fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadowe mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away

The steeple towered from out the greene. And lo! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide.

The swannerds where their sedges are Moved on in sunset's golden breath, The shepherde lads I heard afarre,

And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth; Till floating o'er the grassy sea Came downe that kyndly message free, The "Brides of Mavis Enderby."

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