Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 19

And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls.

As if a door in heaven should be Opened and then closed suddenly, The vision came and went, The light shone and was spent.

On England's annals, through the long Hereafter of her speech and song, That light its rays shall cast From portals of the past.

A lady with a lamp shall stand In the great history of the land A n.o.ble type of good, Heroic Womanhood.

Nor even shall be wanting here The palm, the lily, and the spear, The symbols that of yore Saint Filomena bore.

_Henry W. Longfellow._

The Knight's Toast

The feast is o'er! Now br.i.m.m.i.n.g wine In lordly cup is seen to s.h.i.+ne Before each eager guest; And silence fills the crowded hall, As deep as when the herald's call Thrills in the loyal breast.

Then up arose the n.o.ble host, And, smiling, cried: "A toast! a toast!

To all our ladies fair!

Here before all, I pledge the name Of Staunton's proud and beauteous dame, The Ladye Gundamere!"

Then to his feet each gallant sprung, And joyous was the shout that rung, As Stanley gave the word; And every cup was raised on high, Nor ceased the loud and gladsome cry Till Stanley's voice was heard.

"Enough, enough," he, smiling, said, And lowly bent his haughty head; "That all may have their due, Now each in turn must play his part, And pledge the lady of his heart, Like gallant knight and true!"

Then one by one each guest sprang up, And drained in turn the br.i.m.m.i.n.g cup, And named the loved one's name; And each, as hand on high he raised, His lady's grace or beauty praised, Her constancy and fame.

'Tis now St. Leon's turn to rise; On him are fixed those countless eyes;-- A gallant knight is he; Envied by some, admired by all, Far famed in lady's bower and hall,-- The flower of chivalry.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye, And lifts the sparkling cup on high: "I drink to one," he said, "Whose image never may depart, Deep graven on this grateful heart, Till memory be dead.

"To one, whose love for me shall last When lighter pa.s.sions long have past,-- So holy 'tis and true; To one, whose love hath longer dwelt, More deeply fixed, more keenly felt, Than any pledged by you."

Each guest upstarted at the word, And laid a hand upon his sword, With fury flas.h.i.+ng eye; And Stanley said: "We crave the name, Proud knight, of this most peerless dame, Whose love you count so high."

St. Leon paused, as if he would Not breathe her name in careless mood, Thus lightly to another; Then bent his n.o.ble head, as though To give that word the reverence due, And gently said: "My Mother!"

_Sir Walter Scott._

The Old Man Dreams

O for one hour of youthful joy!

Give back my twentieth spring!

I'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy Than reign a gray-beard king;

Off with the spoils of wrinkled age!

Away with learning's crown!

Tear out life's wisdom-written page, And dash its trophies down!

One moment let my life-blood stream From boyhood's fount of flame!

Give me one giddy, reeling dream Of life all love and fame!

My listening angel heard the prayer, And, calmly smiling, said, "If I but touch thy silvered hair, Thy hasty wish hath sped.

"But is there nothing in thy track To bid thee fondly stay, While the swift seasons hurry back To find the wished-for day?"

Ah! truest soul of womankind!

Without thee what were life?

One bliss I cannot leave behind: I'll take--my--precious--wife!

The angel took a sapphire pen And wrote in rainbow dew, "The man would be a boy again, And be a husband, too!"

"And is there nothing yet unsaid Before the change appears?

Remember, all their gifts have fled With those dissolving years!"

"Why, yes; for memory would recall My fond paternal joys; I could not bear to leave them all: I'll take--my--girl--and--boys!"

The smiling angel dropped his pen-- "Why, this will never do; The man would be a boy again, And be a father too!"

And so I laughed--my laughter woke The household with its noise-- And wrote my dream, when morning broke, To please the gray-haired boys.

_Oliver Wendell Holmes._

Was.h.i.+ngton's Birthday

The bells of Mount Vernon are ringing to-day, And what say their melodious numbers To the flag blooming air? List, what do they say?

"The fame of the hero ne'er slumbers!"

The world's monument stands the Potomac beside, And what says the shaft to the river?

"When the hero has lived for his country, and died, Death crowns him a hero forever."

The bards crown the heroes and children rehea.r.s.e The songs that give heroes to story, And what say the bards to the children? "No verse Can yet measure Was.h.i.+ngton's glory.

"For Freedom outlives the old crowns of the earth, And Freedom shall triumph forever, And Time must long wait the true song of his birth Who sleeps by the beautiful river."

_Hezekiah b.u.t.terworth._