A CHORUS OF MANY VOICES. We sing Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws Of time and change and mortal life and death. TWO LOVERS. 'WO lovers by a moss-grown spring: Tw They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. O budding time! O love's blest prime ! Two wedded from the portal stept: O pure-eyed bride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked; These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour! O hidden power! Two parents by the evening fire: O patient life! O tender strife! The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; O voyage fast! O vanished past! The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide : They drew their chairs up side by side, Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is! George Eliot. PARTING. THERE'S no use in weeping, Though we are condemned to part; A remembrance in one's heart. There's such a thing as dwelling We'll not let its follies grieve us, And then every day will leave us |