438 HEAVEN'S SUNRISE TO EARTH'S BLINDNESS. HEAVEN'S SUNRISE TO EARTH'S BLINDNESS. T is the hour for souls, "And second, sapphire; third, chalcedony ; That bodies, leavened by the The rest in order; last, an amethyst." will and love, Be lightened to redemption. The world's old, But the old world waits the hour to be renewed Toward which new hearts in individual growth And music is sounding its joyous call, Must quicken and increase to And the guests are gathering the young, multitude the fair, In new dynasties of the race With the flower-wreathed brow and the of men; Developed whence, shall grow spontaneously New churches, new ceremonies, new laws Admitting freedom, new societies braided hair. I come, but so noiseless shall be my way Through the smiling crowds of the young and gay Excluding falsehood. He shall make all Not a thought shall rise in a careless breast new. My Romney! Lifting up my hand in his, He stood a moment with erected brows, when I saw his soul saw, "Jasper first," I said; Of me, the unseen, the unbidden guest; Not an undertone on the ear shall swell, Smiting your hearts like a funeral-knell. I come! Let the music's echoing note Let the starry lamps soft radiance throw snow: Not a freezing pulse, not a thrill of fear, Shall tell that the king of the grave is near; Not a pallid face, not a rayless eye, They faded away when the groves were Oh, the good and the pure have naught to fear green, When the suns of autumn were faint and When my voice in the gathering gloom they brief On the withered grass and the changing leaf; Then swell the proud strains of your music high As the measured hours of your life flit by; Let the foot of the thoughtless dancer be As fleet as it will, it eludes not me. I shall come when life's morning ray is bright, I shall come in the hush of its waning light, I shall come when the ties of earth cling fast, When love's sweet voice is a voice of the past. To your homes and pray! for ye wait your doom The shroud, the coffin, the lonely tomb. Ye would quail, ye tremblers, to see me here, gay! hear. Away from the dance, ye revellers Fling off the wreath: to your homes and pray! LUELLA J. CASE. And round her now, as still she sleeps Encoffined in her prime, No in anguished sorrow weeps, eye For grief is here sublime. E'en while she lived an awe was cast Around her loveliness; It seemed as if, whene'er she passed, A child upraised its tiny hands, And cried, "Oh, weep no more! We would not bring her back to life A creature all divine; We would not even ask to shred One tress of golden gleam Sheds a refulgent beam. No! Lay her with her shining hair Around her flowing bright; We would not keep of one so rare Memorials in our sight. Too harsh a shade would seem to lie On all things here beneath If we beheld one token by Of her who sleeps in death. CATHERINE A. WARFIELD and ELEANOR P. LEE. CANZONET. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF LUIS DE CAMOENS. WHY wrapped he not a martyr's robe Around his lofty form? Why bore he not with dauntless brow The bursting of the storm? Why cringed the mind that proudly soared Whose grasp was on him laid? They tell us it was fear that bowed He did not dare to die. LOWERS are fresh and bushes green, Fear! What had he to do with fear FLO Cheerily the linnets sing; Winds are soft and skies serene : Time, however, soon shall throw Winter's snow O'er the buxom breast of Spring. Who ventured out abroad, Unpiloted, thro' pathless space By angels only trod Who wandered with unfailing flight Creation's vastness o'er, |