Puslapio vaizdai
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WISDOM UNAPPLIED.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

IF I were thou, O butterfly!

And poised my purple wings to spy
All sweetest flowers that live and die-

I would not waste my strength on those,
As thou; for summer hath a close,
And pansies bloom not in the snows.

If I were thou, O eagle proud!

And scream'd the thunder back to cloud, And faced the lightning in that shroud—

I would not rest my royal throne,
As thou, upon a crumbling stone,
Which the next wind may trample down.

If I were thou, O gallant steed!
With pawing hoof and dancing head,
And eye outrunning thine own speed-

I would not meeken to the rein,

As thou, nor smooth my nostril plain From the glad desert's snort and strain.

If I were thou, red-breasted bird!
Whose song is at my lattice heard,
By sleet and tempest undeterr'd—

I would not overstay delight,
As thou, but take a swallow's flight,
Till the new spring return'd to sight.

While yet I spake, a sign was laid
Upon my brow, whose pride did fade,
As thus methought an angel said :-

"If I were thou who sing'st this songMost wise for others, and most strong In seeing right while doing wrong—

"I would not waste my life, and choose, As thou, to seek what thou must lose, Frail joys that perish in the use.

"I would not work where none can win,

As thou, along the ways of sin,

But look above, and strive within.

"I would not champ the hard cold bit,

As thou, of what the world thinks fit,
But take God's liberty for it.

"I would not let my heart beat high,
As thou, toward fame's regality,
Nor yet in love's great jeopardy.

"I would not live earth's winter through, As thou, but (past the death in view) Live on for life God calls thee to.

"Then sing, O singer! but avow That beast, and fly, and bird on bough, Howe'er unwise, are wise as thou!"

"PRAY NOT FOR THE DEAD."

M. A. H.

PRAY not for the dead! Alas, alas! the prayer

So often pour'd in bitterness of heart,
In the first fulness of the soul's despair
Over the grave of loved ones, who depart
And leave us mourning-shall we not confess
And know and feel its utter worthlessness?

Pray for the young! That they may live and learn,
And hallow their Creator's name, and love
The creatures He hath made; and so return
The spirit to its resting-place above,

To God who gave it—and the dust to dust,
Whence it was taken. Pray for them and trust!

Pray for the weary and the sick at heart,

For those bow'd down by sorrow's heavy weight; Pray that the God of patience may impart

His own good spirit to the desolate;

And pray that they who sow in tears may reap
In joy unchanging. Pray for them and weep!

Pray for the sinner-for the weak and blind-
For them who will not, or who cannot pray;
Pray that the poor benighted ones may find

A star to light the darkness of their way:
The troubled spirit, the repentant tear
May yet be theirs-then pray for them and fear.

Pray for the dying, that their end be peace!

Pray for the mourners who beside them kneel; Pray that the worn and aching heart may cease To suffer, though it may not cease to feel; And oh! that sorrow may not pass away, And leave those hearts unchasten'd, deeply pray!

But

pray not for the dead-nor weep nor sigh; Ye cannot know, ye cannot change their doom; For as the tree hath fallen, it must lie.

In loneliness of spirit, by the tomb

Kneel down, and tears of contrite sorrow shed:

Pray for the living-pray not for the dead!

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