172. THE VILLAGE CHURCH.
Ar a short distance from the village stood,
Half in the shelter of an arching wood,
The old time-honoured church, antique and grey,
Touch'd by th' unsparing finger of decay;
But still so gently touched, as if it fear'd
To spoil the building ages had revered.
"With ivy crown'd, it raised its ancient head
Above the peaceful mansions of the dead;
And while the steeple clock still told the tale
Of how th' appointed years of manhood fail,
Its humble spire uplifted to the skies,
Directed still the heart of man to rise
To those eternal mansions of the blest
Where weary souls at last find peace and rest.
173. THE FAIRY'S SONG.
OVER hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see,
These be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours.
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Ceaseless aspiring,
Ceaseless content,
Darkness or sunshine,
Thy element ;
Glorious fountain!
Let my heart be
Fresh, changeful, constant,
Upward, like thee!
175. UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.
UNDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.
SPEAK Softly to the fatherless!
And check the harsh reply
That sends the crimson to the cheek,
The tear-drop to the eye.
They have the weight of loneliness
In this wide world to bear;
Then gently raise the fallen bud,
The drooping floweret spare.
Speak gently to the fatherless!
The lowliest of their band
God keepeth, as the waters
In the hollow of His hand.
"Tis sad to see life's evening sun
Go down in sorrow's shroud,
But sadder still when morning dawn
Is darkened by the cloud.
Look mildly on the fatherless!
You may have power to wile
Their hearts from saddened memory
By the magic of a smile.
Deal gently with those little ones;
Be pitiful, and He,
The Friend and Father of us all,
Shall gently deal with thee.
177. BEAUTIES IN NATURE.
THERE's beauty in the summer's eve,
When flowers their petals fold;
When eastern skies are wrapp'd in gloom,
And western clouds in gold.
There's beauty in the brilliant stars
That gem the purple sky,
As dance their image on the brook
That slowly ripples by.
There's beauty in the mighty storm,
Along the sea-girt shore;
Where heaves the mighty billows high,
And pealing thunders roar.
There's beauty in deep solitude,
In ocean, earth, and air :
On mountain-peak,-in shady grove,
And beauty everywhere.
There's beauty in the song of birds,
On spray or greening sod; 'Tis beautiful for man to hear These beauties tell of God.
178. WRITTEN ON THE LOSS OF A FAVOURITE
FOLD her, O Father, in thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee.
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