Long since, a dream of heaven I h… And still the vision haunts me oft… I see the saints in white robes cl… The martyrs with their palms aloft… But hearing still, in middle song,

The threads our hands in blindness… No self-determined plan weaves in; The shuttle of the unseen powers Works out a pattern not as ours. Ah! small the choice of him who si…

He has done the work of a true man… Crown him, honor him, love him. Weep, over him, tears of woman, Stoop manliest brows above him! O dusky mothers and daughters,

The goodman sat beside his door One sultry afternoon, With his young wife singing at his… An old and goodly tune. A glimmer of heat was in the air,-

THEY sat in silent watchfulness The sacred cypress-tree about, And, from beneath old wrinkled bro… Their failing eyes looked out. Gray Age and Sickness waiting the…

Still sits the school-house by the… A ragged beggar sleeping; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry-vines are creeping. Within, the master’s desk is seen,

Bland as the morning breath of Ju… The southwest breezes play; And, through its haze, the winter… Seems warm as summer’s day. The snow-plumed Angel of the Nort…

GEORGE FULLER Haunted of Beauty, like the marve… Who sang Saint Agnes’ Eve! How p… Her shapes took color in thy homes… How on thy canvas even her dreams…

A bending staff I would not break… A feeble faith I would not shake, Nor even rashly pluck away The error which some truth may sta… Whose loss might leave the soul wi…

A railway conductor who lost his l… railway, May 9, 1873. CONDUCTOR BRADLEY, (always… Be said with reverence!) as the sw… Smitten to death, a crushed and ma…

As a guest who may not stay Long and sad farewells to say Glides with smiling face away, Of the sweetness and the zest Of thy happy life possessed

Piero Luca, known of all the town As the gray porter by the Pitti w… Where the noon shadows of the gard… Sick and in dolor, waited to lay d… His last sad burden, and beside hi…

'T is the noon of the spring-time,… In the wind-shaken elm or the mapl… For green meadow-grasses wide leve… And blowing of drifts where the cr… Where wind-flower and violet, ambe…

In my dream, methought I trod, Yesternight, a mountain road; Narrow as Al Sirat’s span, High as eagle’s flight, it ran. Overhead, a roof of cloud

A score of years had come and gone Since the Pilgrims landed on Plym… When Captain Underhill, bearing s… From Indian ambush and Flemish wa… Left three-hilled Boston and wand…