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The way is lonely, let
me feel them now. Think gently of me; I
am travel-worn; My faltering feet are
pierced with many a
thorn. Forgive, oh, hearts es
tranged, forgive, I
plead; When dreamless rest
is mine I shall not
need The tenderness for
which I long tonight.
THE TENDERNESS FOR WHICH I LONG
BELLE EUGENIA SMITH.
“WHEN THE GRASS SHALL COVER ME.”
shall cover me,
When the grass shall cover me,
While I laugh, or weep, or sing
When the grass shall cover me!
A PSALM OF LIFE.
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID
TO THE PSALMIST.
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream !
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest !
And the grave is not its goal ;
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act,-act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
SEGOVIA AND MADRID.
IT sings to me in sunshine,
It whispers all day long,
Repeats the wistful song;
Wherein my life is hid, -
But my soul is in Madrid !"
I dream, and wake, and wonder,
For dream and day are one;
And days forever done.
As long ago they did;
But my soul is in Madrid !
Through inland hills and forests
I hear the ocean breeze,
The rush of mighty seas,
Through which a swift keel slid;
soul is in Madrid.
Oh, fair-haired little darlings,
A wide and woeful
Between us roars to
day; Yet am I close beside
you, Though time and
space forbid; My body is in Sego
via, But my soul is in
If I were once in hea
ven, There would be no
more sea; My heart would cease
to wander, My sorrows cease to
be; My sad eyes sleep for
ever, In dust and daisies
hid, “OH, FAIR-HAIRED LITTLE DARLINGS WHO BORE MY HEART AWAY !"
And my body leave
Rose TERRY COOKE.