For oh dear child of thoughtful Truth, To thee I gave my early youth. And left the bark, and biest the steadfast shore. Ere yet the tempest rose and scared me with its roar. Who late and lingering seeks thy shrine. And Sloth, poor counterfeits of thee, To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind: But me thy gentle hand will lead At morning through the accustomed mead; Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attune, The feeling heart, the searching soul, The greatness of some future race, The present works of present man A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile, SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. Some of life's sad ones are too strong to die, But for the noble souls austere and bleak Who have had the bitter dose and drained the cup, And wait for Death face fronted, standing up. Terminus IT is time to be old, To take in sail : The god of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds, And said: 'No more! No farther spread Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. Fancy departs: no more invent, Contract thy firmament Το compass of a tent. There's not enough for this and that, Make thy option which of two; Economize the failing river, Still plan and smile, And, fault of novel germs, Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, Bad husbands of their fires, Who, when they gave thee breath, The needful sinew stark as once, The Baresark marrow to thy bones, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: Right onward drive unarmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed.' RALPH WALDO EMERSON. A Farewell to Arms (To Queen Elizabeth) HIS golden locks Time hath to silver turned ; O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing. Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen. Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees, |