Fair Nature's book together read,
The old wood-paths that knew our tread,
The maple shadows overhead,

The hills we climbed, the river seen
By gleams along its deep ravine,
All keep thy memory fresh and green.

Where'er I look, where'er I stray,
Thy thought goes with me on my way,
And hence the prayer I breathe to-day:

O'er lapse of time and change of scene,
The weary waste which lies between
Thyself and me, my heart I lean.

Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor
The half-unconscious power to draw
All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law.

With these good gifts of God is cast
Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast
To hold the blesséd angels fast.

If, then, a fervent wish for thee
The gracious heavens will heed from me,
What should, dear heart, its burden be?

The sighing of a shaken reed,
What can I more than meekly plead
The greatness of our common need?

God's love, unchanging, pure, and true, The Paraclete white-shining through

His peace,

the fall of Hermon's dew!

With such a prayer, on this sweet day,
As thou mayst hear and I may say,
I greet thee, dearest, far away!

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

THE POET'S FRIEND.

LORD BOLINGBROKE.

COME then, my friend! my genius! come along; O master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Formed by thy converse happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe; Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please. O, while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend! That, urged by thee, I turned the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart : For wit's false mirror held up Nature's light; Showed erring pride, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT; That REASON, PASSION, answer one great aim; That true SELF-LOVE and SOCIAL are the same ; That VIRTUE Only makes our bliss below; And all our knowledge is, OURSELVES TO KNOW.

ALEXANDER POPE.

A GENEROUS friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.

POPE'S ILIAD.

But I've in vain essayed it,
And feel I cannot now.

While memory bids me weep thee,
Nor thoughts nor words are free,
The grief is fixed too deeply

That mourns a man like thee.

FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.

EARLY FRIENDSHIP.

THE half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went;
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wand'rings through forbidden ways;
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze
Of life to noble ends, - whereon intent,
Asking to know for what man here is sent,
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze,
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature,
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend
With strength no selfish purpose can secure :
My happy lot is this, that all attend
That friendship which first came, and which shall
last endure.

FRIENDSHIP.

AUBREY DE VERE.

HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
HOR. O my dear lord
HAM.

Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor

be flattered ?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou
hear?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are those

Whose blood and judgmentare so well co-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please: Give me that

man

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

SHAKESPEARE.

OLD MATTHEW

A CONVERSATION.

We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true,

A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two.

We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat;

And from the turf a fountain broke

And gurgled at our feet.

"Now, Matthew!" said I, "let us match
This water's pleasant tune
With some old border-song, or catch
That suits a summer's noon.

"Or of the church-clock and the chimes
Sing here beneath the shade
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
Which you last April made!"

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed The spring beneath the tree; And thus the dear old man replied, The gray-haired man of glee:

"No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears, How merrily it goes!

'T will murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows.

"And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay Beside this fountain's brink.

"My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

"Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what Age takes away Than what it leaves behind.

"The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill,

Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will.

"With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:

"'T is true," I'd not believe them more than thee, All-noble Marcius. Let me twine

Mine arms about that body, where-against
My grainéd ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scared the moon with splinters! Here I clip
The anvil of my sword; and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love,
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valor. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here,

Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell
thee,

We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me,
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy
Marcius,

Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banished, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in,
And take our friendly senators by th' hands;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much.

SHAKESPEARE.

WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET SILENT THOUGHT.

SONNET.

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,
Which I new pay, as if not paid before;
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

SHAKESPEARE,

FRIENDS FAR AWAY.

COUNT not the hours while their silent wings

Thus waft them in fairy flight;

For feeling, warm from her dearest springs,

Shall hallow the scene to-night.

And while the music of joy is here,

And the colors of life are gay,

Let us think on those that have loved us dear, The Friends who are far away.

Few are the hearts that have proved the truth Of their early affection's vow ;

And let those few, the beloved of youth,

Be dear in their absence now. O, vividly in their faithful breast

Shall the gleam of remembrance play, Like the lingering light of the crimson west, When the sunbeam hath passed away!

Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours,

And calm be the seas they roam ! May the way they travel be strewed with flowers, Till it bring them in safety home! And when we whose hearts are o'erflowing thus Ourselves may be doomed to stray, May some kind orison rise for us, When we shall be far away!

HORACE TWISS.

THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.

"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other." - WASHINGTON IRVING.

Two baiks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide;
A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.

And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave

The melodies of earth.

Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept;
While dancing step and festive strain
Each deck in triumph swept.

And hands were linked, and answering eyes
With kindly meaning shone;
O, brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown!

A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,

Till the loud singing winds at last
Like trumpet music rose.

And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore;

In calm or storm, by rock or bay,

To meet-O, nevermore!

Never to blend in victory's cheer,
To aid in hours of woe;

And thus bright spirits mingle here,
Such ties are formed below.

FELICIA HEMANS.