* * * * *
_On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake_.
Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days;
None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
_Burns_.
Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines,
Shrines to no code or creed confined--
The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
The Meccas of the mind.
* * * * *
CHARLES SPRAGUE.
_Curiosity_.
Lo, where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,
Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.
* * * * *
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends,
An incarnation of fat dividends.
* * * * *
_Centennial Ode_.
Stanza 22.
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
We lift our heads, a race of other days.
* * * * *
_To my Cigar_.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctor's spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
_A Psalm of Life_.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
* * * * *
Art is long, and Time is fleeting.
* * * * *
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
* * * * *
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160