Wail for Dædalus! awful Voices From earth's deep centre mankind appal. Seldom ye sound, and then Death rejoices: For he knows that then the Mightiest fall. WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS. 1806-1870. THE LOST PLEIAD. Not in the sky, Where it was seen, Nor on the white tops of the glistening wave, Nor in the mansions of the hidden deep (Though green And beautiful its caves of mystery) Shall the bright watcher have A place, and as of old high station keep. Gone! gone! O, never more to cheer The mariner who holds his course alone On the Atlantic, through the weary night When the stars turn to watchers and do sleep, With the sweet fixedness of certain light Vain! vain! Hopeful most idly then shall he look forth, Howe'er the North Doth raise his certain lamp when tempests lower, He sees no more that perish'd light again; And gloomier grows the hour Which may not, through the thick and crowding dark, Restore that lost and loved One to her tower. He looks, the shepherd on Chaldea's hills And wonders the rich beacon doth not blaze, And from his dreary watch along the rocks Still wondering as the drowsy silence fills And lone, Where its first splendours shone, Shall be that pleasant company of stars : How should they know that death Such perfect beauty mars? And, like the earth, its common bloom and breath, Fallen from on high, Their lights grow blasted by its touch, and die,— All their concerted springs of harmony Snapp'd rudely, and the generous music gone. A strain, a mellow strain Of wailing sweetness, fill'd the earth and sky: That one of the Selected Ones must die, The hope heart-cherish'd is the soonest lost; NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS. 1807-1867. TWO WOMEN. The shadows lay along Broadway, Peace charm'd the street beneath her feet, And call'd her good as fair : She kept with care her beauties rare For her heart was cold to all but gold, Now walking there was One more fair, A slight Girl, lily pale; And she had unseen company To make the spirit quail : 'Twixt Want and Scorn she walk'd forlorn And nothing could avail. No mercy now can clear her brow For this world's peace to pray: For as love's wild prayer dissolved in air, Her woman's heart gave way: But the sin forgiven by Christ in Heaven By man is cursed alway. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 1807-1882. THE ARROW AND THE SONG. I shot an arrow into the air ; It fell to earth, I knew not where : I breathed a song into the air; Long, long afterward, in an oak THE LIGHT OF STARS. The night is come, but not too soon; All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven And the first watch of night is given Is it the tender star of love, The star of love and dreams? And earnest thoughts within me rise Suspended in the evening skies, O star of strength! I see thee stand Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, Within my breast there is no light The star of the unconquer'd will: And thou too, whosoe'er thou art, O, fear not in a world like this! THE CUMBERLAND. At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the South uprose |