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Y daughter, go and pray! See, night is come:
Trembles the misty outline of the hill.
Listen! the distant wheels in darkness glideAll else is hushed; the tree by the roadside
Shakes in the wind its dust-strewn branches still.
Day is for evil, weariness, and pain.
The wind among the ruined towers so bare
Longing for peace, for slumber, and for prayer.
And sinful, all young children, with bent knees,
On our behalf, to Him who all things sees.
And then they sleep. Oh peaceful cradle-sleep!
Of love, not fear, in happiness expressed !
Its head beneath its wing, and sinks to rest.
Pray thou for all who living tread
Upon this earth of graves;
Or swiftness of a horse ;
Or on their heavenward course.
Pray thou for him who nightly sins
Until the day dawns bright-
His dance and banquet light;
Their prayers at twilight dim;
God also heareth him.
Child ! pray for all the poor beside;
The prisoner in his cell,
With crime and misery dwell;
Religion's holy law.
Thy prayer forgiveness draw. -VICTOR HUGO.
D. M, M.
A REASSURING PROSPECT.
All is light and all is joy.
The dragon-fly on fluttering wings,
The full-blown rose, grown young again,
forth his tuneful strain Within the sun-illumined bush.
He blesses God, who ne'er is hid
In woods that soften every sound,
The moon, all pale in sunlit skies,
The wallflower with the gamesome bee
All lives and sits around with
On joyful plains bright sun-rays fall,
THERE is an unknown language spoken
By the loud winds that sweep the sky;
By the lone star, whose beams wax pale,
The mariner's sweet distant hymn,
In the smooth sea reflected dim.
The sunset on the mountain's shades,
And eve that on the turret fades;
The quivering cypress' murmured sighs,
Within the forest's mysteries.
Thou who art truth, life, hope, and love;
To whom bright morning looks above;
Declares, yet not defines Thy light;
Who hast but one name—INFINITE.
This voice, resounding from all time;
Interpreting its sense sublime.
The more this vain world's pleasures cloy;
In solitude our only joy.
Its sight upon the glorious sun,
With rosy clouds that towards it run;
all powerless sinks,
And sees but gloomy specks float by;
And the clear bosom of the sky.
D. M. M. THE TROUBADOUR AND HIS SWALLOW.
THE warm breath of summer
Has burst the frost's chain;
But the bird of my bosom,
I hear its gay fellows,
More faithful, alas !
With rapid wing shooting,
Long known-long beloved !
When wilt thou return
In absence so dreary
None other can give thee
A life half so fair;
Thou bright joyous creature;
For thee does my window
Half-open remain :
Can it be that thou fearest
The flower in the wild-wood
Gives place to the fruit:
And each day revealeth
My strain, once so gleesome,
Is now a sad song:
Has death proved the stronger?
D. M. M.
THE ANGÉL AND THE CHILD.
An angel form, with brow of light,
Watched o'er a sleeping infant's dream,
He there beheld as in a stream.