Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. ALFRED TENNYSON. THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful schooldays; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late with my bosom cronies; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a love once, fairest among women; Closed are her doors on me now, I must not see her. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly; Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces, How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. CHARLES LAMB. THE BAREFOOT BOY. Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace! From my heart I give thee joy : I was once a barefoot boy. Prince thou art-the grown-up man Let the million-dollared ride! O! for boyhood's painless play, O for boyhood's time of June, I, who cannot sleep as well, All that may undo you? I will smile, too! Patience mild And God knows who sees us twain, Child at childish leisure, I am near as tired of pain As you seem of pleasure; Very soon, too, by his grace Gently wrapped around me, Shall I show as calm a face, Shall I sleep as soundly: Clasp your playthings sleeping, Sleeping shall be colder, (Sleeper, have you heard me ? Do you move, and open wide Eyes of wonder toward me?) That while you I thus recall From your sleep, I solely, Me from mine an angel shall, With reveille holy! ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. THE MONEYLESS MAN. S there no secret place on the face of the earth, Go, look in your hall, where the chandelier's light Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night, Where the rich hanging velvet in shadowy fold, Sweeps gracefully down with its trimming of gold, And the mirrors of silver take up and renew, In long lighted vistas, the wildering view— Go there in your patches, and find if you can, A welcoming smile for the moneyless man! Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire, Which gives back to the sun his same look of red fire, Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within, And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin; Go down the long aisle-see the rich and the great, In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can, Who opens a pew to a moneyless man. Go, look on yon judge in the dark flowing gown, With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down, Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong, And punishes right where he justifies wrong; can, Any law for the cause of a moneyless man! Go, look in the banks where mammon has told Where charity dwelleth, where virtue hath His hundreds and thousands of silver and birth? Where bosoms in mercy and kindness shall heave, And the poor and the wretched shall “ask and receive?" Is there no place on earth where a knock from the poor Will bring a kind angel to open the door? gold; Where safe from the hand of the starving and poor, Lays pile upon pile of the glittering ore; Walk up to the counter-and there you may stay Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray, And you'll find at the banks no one of the clan With money to loan to a moneyless man! |