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All day the stormy wind has blown
From off the dark and rainy sea;
The wind made in the willow-tree.
This is the summer's burial-time:
She died when dropped the earliest leaves;
And, cold upon her rosy prime,
Fell down the autumn's frosty rime;
For well I know o'er sunny seas
The bluebird waits for April skies;
And violets hide their azure eyes.
O thou, by winds of grief o'erblown
Beside some golden summer's bier,—
To greet thee in the immortal year!
Edna Dean Proctor.
HOW WE LEARN
v Great truths are dearly bought. The common truth,
Bought in the market, at the current price,
It tells no tale of daring or of worth,
Great truths are greatly won. Not found by chance,
But grasped in the great struggle of the soul,
Not in the general mart, 'mid corn and wine,
Not in the world's gay halls of midnight mirth,
But in the day of conflict, fear, and grief,
When the strong hand of God, put forth in might,
Ploughs up the subsoil of the stagnant heart,
And brings the imprisoned truth-seed to the light.
Wrung from the troubled spirit in hard hours
Truth springs, like harvest, from the well-ploughed field,
REAPER OF LIFE'S HARVEST
Ho, Reaper of life's harvest!
Why stand with rusted blade
Why stand ye idle, waiting
For reapers more to come?
Why sit ye silent, dumb?
Thrust in your sharpened sickle
And gather in the grain:
And noon will come again.
The Master calls for reapers,
And shall He call in vain?
And waste upon the plain?
Mount up the heights of wisdom,
And crush each error low;
That human hearts should know.
Be faithful to thy mission
In service of thy Lord,
Shall be thy just reward.
MEMORIAL HYMN.— J. A. GARFIELD
Now all ye flowers make room;
Sighing and weeping.
We leave him sleeping.
Soft may his body rest
'Mid blinding tears;
Spend endless years.
O Still, white face of perfect peace,
He who ordained that work should cease
O noble face! your beauty bears
The high, celestial beauty wears
Of human care you left no trace,
No lightest trace of grief or pain, — On earth an empty form and face —
In Heaven stands the ripened grain.
Dora Read Good Ale.
Heaven overarches earth and sea,
Earth-sadness and sea-bitterness.
Nor barren wilderness.
Heaven overarches you and me,
Look up with me, until we see
The day break and the shadows flee.
What though to-night wrecks you and me
Christina G. Rossetti.
ALL IS WELL
And all is well, though faith and form
Be sundered in the night of fear;
Well roars the storm to those that hear
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold ! we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last — far off — at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (In Memoriam).
Friend after friend departs;
Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts
That finds not here an end!
Beyond the flight of time —
There surely is some blessed clime
Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward and expire l
There is a world above
A long eternity of love
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere!
Thus star by star declines
As morning high and higher shines
To pure and perfect day;
Peace, troubled heart! the way's not long before thee.
Be yon soft azure hand serenely o'er thee,
Peace, troubled heart ! the hasty word may fret thee,
The Christ who suffered, loves thee, never leaves thee,
Peace, troubled heart ! though marred thy best behavior,
To thy deep longing, thine aspiring cry, Listens thy Heavenly Kinsman, thy dear Savior
Healeth thy life-hurt, wipeth thy tears dry.
Peace, lonely heart! Be patient. Thou 'lt see, waiting,
Be patient, praying; all earth's discord grating
Peace, troubled heart! O coward, weakly shrinking
The chrism of suffering. Earthward, poor souls sinking,
Peace, troubled heart! see yon strong ships all sailing
Through summer calms, through wintry tempest quailing
Peace, troubled heart! beyond these bitter breezes,
Mid Isles of Paradise, in airs of balm,
Thou 'lt gain at last the everlasting calm.
Peace, troubled heart ! go out beneath the ether;
Rest in the marvellous sunshine of the sky; Watch the bees sail and sing in sunny leisure;
List the waves laughing as they loiter by.
Peace, troubled heart ! if minor notes of sadness
Quickens the anthem of her mightier gladness,