We bring no sorrows to thy throne; Through every blessed day and night J. G. Holland. L 7. SONG OF TRUST.. IFE evermore is fed by death In earth and sea and sky; And, that a rose breathe its breath, Something must die. The oak-tree, struggling with the blast, And sheds its leaves, and drops its mast, The milk-white heifer's life must pass As passed the sweet life of the grass From lowly woe springs lordly joy; For angels wait on Providence, J. G. Holland. TURN 8. SONG OF FORTUNE. URN, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm, or cloud: Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; With that wild wheel we go not up or down : Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands: For man is man, and master of his fate. Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd: Thy wheel and thou are shadows of the cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. Alfred Tennyson. A 9. THE LITTLE TREE. LITTLE tree stood up in the wood And nothing but needles it had for leaves From top to bottom together. The needles stuck about, And the little tree spoke out: "My companions all have leaves Beautiful to see: While I've nothing but these needles; Might I have my fortune told, All my leaves should be pure gold." The little tree's asleep by dark, Awake by earliest light; And now its golden leaves you mark: There was a sight! The little tree says, "Now I'm set high: No tree in the wood has gold leaves but I." But now again the night came back: Through the forest there walked a Jew, With great thick beard and great thick sack, And soon the gold leaves did view. He pockets them all, and away does fare, Leaving the little tree quite bare. The little tree speaks up distressed,"Those golden leaves how I lament! I'm quite ashamed before the rest, Such lovely dress to them is lent. Might I bring one more wish to pass, I would have my leaves of the clearest glass." The little tree sleeps again at dark, And wakes with the early light. And now its glass leaves you may mark : The little tree says, "Now I'm right glad : There came up now a mighty blast, There lay the leaves of glass "My glass lies on the ground: Each other tree remains With its green dress all sound. Might I but have my wish once more, I would have of those good green leaves good store." Again asleep is the little tree, And early wakes to the light: He is covered with green leaves fair to see; He laughs outright, And says, "I am now all nicely dressed, And now, with udders full, Forth a wild she-goat sprung, Seeking for herbs to pull, To feed her young. She sees the leaves, nor makes much talk, The little tree again is bare, And thus to himself he said: The little tree slept sad that night, He sees himself in the sun's first light, And all the trees in a roar burst out; But the little tree little cared for their shout. What made the little tree laugh like mad? And everybody may see them such: • They prick, some say. N. L. Frothingham (from the German of Rückert). |