LONGFELLOW'S POEMS. VOICES OF THE NIGHT. Πότνια, πότνια νύξ, ὑπνοδότειρα τῶν πολυπόνων βροτῶν, ὑπὸ γὰρ ἀλγέων, υπό τε συμφορᾶς PRELUDE. PLEASANT it was, when woods were green, And winds were soft and low, Shadows dark and sunlight sheen Or where the denser grove receives A slumberous sound, brings The feelings of a dream,- O'er meadow, lake, and stream. Dreams that the soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quell'd; Old legends of the monkish page, Traditions of the saint and sage, Tales that have the rime of age, And chronicles of Eld. And, loving still these quaint old themes, Even in the city's throng I feel the freshness of the streams, That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams, Water the green land of dreams, Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings I sought the woodlands wide. They were my playmates when a child And ever whispered, mild and low, Come, be a child once more!" And waved their long arms to and fro, Into the woodlands hoar; Into the blithe and breathing air, B Nature with folded hands seemed there, Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines; Abroad their fan-like branches grew, And, where the sunshine darted through, Spread a vapour soft and blue, In long and sloping lines. And, falling on my weary brain, Like a fast-falling shower, Visions of childhood! Stay, oh stay! Thou art no more a child! "The land of Song within thee lies, shall Not mountains capped with snow, Of iron branches sounds! We can return no more!' "Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream! All forms of sorrow and delight, All solemn Voices of the Night, That can soothe thee, or affright,— Be these henceforth thy theme." HYMN TO THE NIGHT. I HEARD the trailing garments of the Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls! I felt her presence by its spell of might, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, Like some old poet's rhymes. From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, From those deep cisterns flows. O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer! Descend with broad-winged flight, The welcome, the thrice-prayed-for, the most fair, The best-beloved Night! Life is real! Life is earnest! Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, And our hearts, though stout and Still, like muffled drums, are beating In the world's broad field of battle, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! We can make our lives sublime, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, THE LIGHT OF STARS. THE night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven, But the cold light of stars; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars. Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? O no! from that blue tent above, And earnest thoughts within me rise, The shield of that red star. O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, Within my breast there is no light, I give the first watch of the night The star of the unconquered will, And calm, and self-possessed. Be resolute and calm. O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. THE REAPER AND THE THERE is a Reaper, whose name is And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have nought that is fair!" saith he ; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets |