QUATRAINS A. H. HIGH was her heart, and yet was well inclined, Far capitals and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, Minstrels and kings and high-born dames, and of the best that be. HUSH! EVERY thought is public, Thy gossips spread each whisper, ORATOR HE who has no hands Perforce must use his tongue; Foxes are so cunning Because they are not strong. ARTIST QUIT the hut, frequent the palace, For still, where'er the trees grow, biggest, Huntsmen find the easiest way.' POET EVER the Poet from the land POET To clothe the fiery thought BOTANIST Go thou to thy learned task, What me the Hours will bring. GARDENER TRUE Brahmin, in the morning meadows wet, Expound the Vedas of the violet, Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, See the plum redden, and the beurré stoop.2 FORESTER He took the color of his vest From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; NORTHMAN THE gale that wrecked you on the sand, It helped my rowers to row; The storm is my best galley hand And drives me where I go.1 FROM ALCUIN THE sea is the road of the bold, Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, The pit wherein the streams are rolled And fountain of the rains. EXCELSIOR OVER his head were the maple buds, S. H. WITH beams December planets dart October in his liberal hand.3 BORROWING FROM THE FRENCH SOME of your hurts you have cured, NATURE BOON Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old : But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.' FATE HER planted eye to-day controls, HOROSCOPE ERE he was born, the stars of fate Plotted to make him rich and great: When from the womb the babe was loosed, The gate of gifts behind him closed." POWER CAST the bantling on the rocks, CLIMACTERIC I AM not wiser for my age, Nor skilful by my grief; Life loiters at the book's first page, Ah! could we turn the leaf. HERI, CRAS, HODIE SHINES the last age, the next with hope is seen, To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between : Future or Past no richer secret folds, O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds. MEMORY NIGHT-DREAMS trace on Memory's wall And thy fortunes, as they fall, The bias of the will betray." LOVE LOVE on his errand bound to go Can swim the flood and wade through snow, Where way is none, 't will creep and wind And eat through Alps its home to find.3 |