Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman whom the world called beautiful. Through its silver veil the evil and ungentle passions looked out, hideous and hateful.
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Now shape the sole! now deftly curl The glassy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it!
And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief.
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying.
We meet today To thank Thee for the era done, And Thee for the opening one.
God blesses still the generous thought,And still the fitting word He speeds,And Truth, at His requiring taught,He quickens into deeds.
A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
Like warp and woof all destinies Are woven fast, Linked in sympathy like the keys Of an organ vast. Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar; Break but one Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar Through all will run.
Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.
Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.
But let the good old corn adorn The hills our fathers trod; Still let us, for his golden corn, Send up our thanks to God!
A felon's cell-- The fittest earthly type of hell!
What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell.
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
The Fates are just: they give us but our own; Nemesis ripens what our hands have sown.
Nature speaks in symbols and in signs.
Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.
Man is more than constitutions.
Formed on the good old plan, A true and brave and downright honest man! He blew no trumpet in the market-place, Nor in the church with hypocritic face Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace; Loathing pretence, he did with cheerful will What others talked of while their hands were still.
I dimly guess, from blessings known, of greater out of sight.
No cloud above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow.
Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.
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