Never more, O storm-toss'd soul!
Never more from wind or tide,
Never more from billow's roll,
Wilt thou need thyself to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Closed beneath the soft gray hair,
Could the mute and stiffen'd lips,
Move again in pleading prayer,
Still, ay, still the words would be,
"Let me hide myself in Thee."
My soul to-day is far away,
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;
My winged boat, a bird afloat,
Swims round the purple peaks remote:
Round purple peaks it sails, and seeks
Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,
Where high rocks throw, through deeps below,
A duplicated golden glow.
Far, vague, and dim the mountains swim;
While, on Vesuvius' misty brim,
With outstretch'd hands the gray smoke stands O'erlooking the volcanic lands.
In lofty lines, 'mid palms and pines,
And olives, aloes, elms, and vines,
Sorrento swings on sunset wings,
Where Tasso's spirit soars and sings.
Here Ischia smiles o'er liquid miles;
And yonder, bluest of the Isles,
Calm Capri waits, her sapphire gates
Beguiling to her bright estates.
I heed not, if my rippling skiff
Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff:
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies
Under the walls of Paradise.
Under the walls, where swells and falls
The Bay's deep breast at intervals,
At peace I lie, blown softly by,
A cloud upon this liquid sky.
The day, so mild, is Heaven's own child, With earth and ocean reconciled:
The airs I feel around me steal
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel:
Over the rail my hand I trail
Within the shadow of the sail;
A joy intense, the cooling sense,
Glides down my drowsy indolence:
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies
Where Summer sings and never dies;
O'erveil'd with vines, she glows and shines
Among her future oil and wines.
Her children, hid the cliffs amid,
Are gambolling with the gambolling kid;
Or down the walls, with tipsy calls,
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls.
The fisher's child, with tresses wild,
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,
With glowing lips sings as she skips,
Or gazes at the far-off ships.
Yon deep bark goes where traffic blows,
From lands of sun to lands of snows:
This happier one, its course is run
From lands of snow to lands of sun.
O happy ship, to rise and dip,
With the blue crystal at your lip!
O happy crew, my heart with you
Sails, and sails, and sings anew!
No more, no more the worldly shore
Upbraids me with its loud uproar !
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies
Under the walls of Paradise!
ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER.
'Twas the eve before Christmas; "Good night" had been said, And Annie and Willie had crept into bed:
There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes,
And each little bosom was heaving with sighs,
For to-night their stern father's command had been given
That they should retire precisely at seven
Instead of at eight; for they troubled him more
With questions unheard-of than ever before:
He had told them he thought this delusion a sin;
No such being as Santa Claus ever had been,
And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear
How he scrambled down chimneys with presents, each year; And this was the reason that two little heads
So restlessly toss'd on their soft downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple toll❜d ten, -
Not a word had been spoken by either till then ;
When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep,
And whisper'd, "Dear Annie, is you fast asleep?"
"Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replies,
"I've tried it in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;
For, somehow, it makes me so sorry because
Dear рара has said there is no Santa Claus.
Now we know that there is, and it can't be denied,
For he came every year before mamma died:
But then I've been thinking that she used to pray,
And God would hear every thing mamma would say;
And perhaps she ask'd him to send Santa Claus here,
With the sacks full of presents he brought every year.”
"Well, why tant we pay dest as mamma did then, And ask Him to send him with presents aden?"
"I've been thinking so, too;" and, without a word more,
Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor,
And four little knees the soft carpet press'd,
And two tiny hands were clasp'd close to each breast.
"Now, Willie, you know we must firmly believe
That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive:
You must wait just as still till I say the' Amen,'
And by that you will know that your turn has come then.
Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me,
And grant us the favour we are asking of Thee:
I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and ring,
And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring.
Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see
That Santa Claus loves us far better than he:
Don't let him get fretful and angry again,
At dear brother Willie, and Annie, Amen!"
"Peas Desus 'et Santa Taus tum down to-night,
And bing us some pesents before it is 'ight:
I want he should div me a nice ittle sed,
With bight, shiny unners, and all painted yed;
A box full of tandy, a book and a toy,-
Amen, - and then, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."
Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads,
And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds;
They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep,
And with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.
Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten,
Ere the father had thought of his children again:
He seems now to hear Annie's half-suppress'd sighs,
And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes:
"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said,
"And should not have sent them so early to bed;
But then I was troubled, my feelings found vent,
For bank stock to-day has gone down ten per cent.:
But of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this,
And that I denied them the thrice-ask'd-for kiss;
But just to make sure I'll steal up to their door,
For I never spoke harsh to my darlings before."
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