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246

Yes, HE IS RISEN. That hallowéd head
No longer lies wrapped in the cloth of the dead.
HE IS SURELY RISEN. At the side of the tomb
Lies the overturned door of the solitary room.
Like the valorous champion drunk after strife
The LORD has awaked to omnipotent life;

To F. W. N. A Birthday Offering

© John Henry Newman

Dear Frank, this morn has usher'd in
The manhood of thy days;
A boy no more, thou must begin
To choose thy future ways;
To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart,
For maintenance of a noble part.

The Thumbed Collar

© Edgar Albert Guest

Go up and change your collar," mother often says to me,
"For you can't go out in that one, it's as dirty as can be.
There are splotches on the surface where they very plainly show."
"That is very queer," I answer, "it was clean an hour ago."
But I guess just what has happened, and in this it's clearly summed:
He who lets a baby love him often gets his collar thumbed.

The Forester

© Robert Bloomfield

Born in a dark wood's lonely dell,

Where echoes roar'd, and tendrils curl'd

The Troubadour. Canto 2

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?

The Secret

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I
I lay upon my bed in the great night:
The sense of my body drowsed;
But a clearness yet lingered in the spirit,
By soft obscurity housed.

Autumn Perspective

© Erica Jong

Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.

After the Earthquake

© Erica Jong

After the first astounding rush,
after the weeks at the lake,
the crystal, the clouds, the water lapping the rocks,
the snow breaking under our boots like skin,
& the long mornings in bed. . .

Eurydice

© James Russell Lowell

Heaven's cup held down to me I drain,

The sunshine mounts and spurs my brain;

Orpheus

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?

Ode To a Lemon

© Pablo Neruda

Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable

Sursum Cor!

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Lament no more, my heart, lament no more,
Though all these clouds have covered up the light,
And thou, so far from shore,
Art baffled in mid flight;

Beachy Head

© Charlotte Turner Smith

ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !

That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea

The Seeking Of Content

Sweet Content, at the rich man's gate,

Called, "Wilt thou let me in?"

Castles In Spain. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)

How much of my young heart, O Spain,
Went out to thee in days of yore!
What dreams romantic filled my brain,
And summoned back to life again
The Paladins of Charlemagne,
The Cid Campeador!

Our House

WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
An' ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.

In Age

And art thou he, now "fallen on evil days,"
And changed indeed! Yet what do this sunk cheek,
These thinner locks, and that calm forehead speak!
A spirit reckless of man's blame or praise,--

On a Beautiful Landscape

Here is no tint of mortal change--the day
Beneath whose light the dog and peasant-boy
Gambol with look, and almost bark, of joy--
Still seems, though centuries have passed, to stay.
Then gaze again, that shadowed scenes may teach
Lessons of peace and love, beyond all speech.