ABOU BEN ADHEM. Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, Thus every good his native wilds impart, 77 Goldsmith. ABOU BEN ADHEM. ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, within the moonlight in his room, And saw, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An Angel writing in a book of gold : Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, "What writest thou ?"-The Vision rais'd its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answer'd, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. 66 Nay, not so," Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low, 78 TO THE CUCKOO. But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, The Angel wrote and vanish'd. The next night And show'd the names whom love of God had bless'd, Leigh Hunt. TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE new comer! I have heard, I hear thee babbling to the vale Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery. The same whom in my schoolboy days Which made me look a thousand ways THE TWO ANGELS. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And I can listen to thee yet; O blessed bird! the earth we pace An unsubstantial, fairy place; That is fit home for thee! Wordsworth. 79 THE TWO ANGELS. Two angels, one of Life and of Death, Their attitude and aspect were the same, Alike their features and their robes of white; But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. I saw them pause on their celestial way; And he who wore the crown of asphodels, The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. 80 THE TWO ANGELS. I recognised the nameless agony, The terror, and the tremor, and the pain, That oft before had fill'd and haunted me, And now return'd with threefold strength again. The door I open'd to my heavenly guest, And listen'd, for I thought I heard God's voice; And, knowing whatsoe'er He sent was best, Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. Then with a smile, that fill'd the house with light, 'Twas at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, The angel with the amaranthine wreath Pausing descended, and with voice divine, Whisper'd a word that had a sound like Death. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, All is of God! if He but wave his hand The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Angels of Life and Death alike are His; Without His leave they pass no threshold o'er; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against His messengers to shut the door? Longfellow. SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT. SHE was a phantom of delight, When first she gleamed upon my sight; To be a moment's ornament. Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view Her household motions light and free, A countenance in which did meet And now I see with eye serene, Wordsworth. G |