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The wind-flower and the violet, they perish'd long
ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the
summer glow; But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the
wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn
beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls
the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from
upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still
such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their
winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though
all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the
rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose
fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the
stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty
died, The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by
In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest
cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life
so brief ; Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young
friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
THE RAINY DAY.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ;
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
ON HIS BLINDNESS.
WHEN I consider how my light is spent
BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.
BREAK, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
The thoughts that arise in me.
O well for the fisherman's boy
That he shouts with his sister at play!
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on;
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still !
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea !
Will never come back to me.
ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,