Imatges de pàgina

Then he came out to his door again, and | And now I feel, as well I may,

merrily did sing,

"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple-there's a crest upon your head;

Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Sweet Mary! thou art dead:

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene,—

I still might press thy silent heart,
And where thy smiles have been!
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own;

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little But then I lay thee in thy grave,-
And I am now alone!

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came

slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then

near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hueThinking only of her crested head-poor foolish thing! At last,

Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, into

his dismal den,

Within his little parlor-but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may

this story read,

To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed;

Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and
ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale, of the
Spider and the Fly.



IF I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side,

That thou couldst mortal be!

It never through my mind had passed,
The time would e'er be o'er,—
And I on thee should look my last,
And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look,

And think 'twill smile again;
And still the thought I will not brook
That I must look in vain!
But when I speak, thou dost not say
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;

I do not think, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me;

And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart,
In thinking too of thee:

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"AND wherefore do the poor complain?" The rich man ask'd of me: "Come, walk abroad with me," I said, "And I will answer thee."

"Twas evening, and the frozen streets Were cheerless to behold;

And we were wrapp'd and coated well, And yet we were a-cold.

We met an old, bareheaded man, His locks were thin and white; I ask'd him what he did abroad In that cold winter's night.

The cold was keen, indeed, he said—
Rut at home no fire had he;
And therefore he had come abroad
To ask for charity.

We met a young barefooted child,
And she begg'd loud and bold;
I asked her what she did abroad
When the wind it blew so cold.

She said her father was at home,

And he lay sick abed;

And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread.

We saw a woman sitting down

Upon a stone to rest;
She had a baby at her back,

And another at her breast.

I ask'd her why she loiter'd there,

When the night-wind was so chill;

She turn'd her head, and bade the child That scream'd behind, be still—

Then told us that her husband served,
A soldier, far away;

And therefore to her parish she
Was begging back her way.

We met a girl, her dress was loose
And sunken was her eye,
Who with a wanton's hollow voice
Address'd the passers-by;

I ask'd her what there was in guilt
That could her heart allure
To shame, disease, and late remorse;
She answer'd she was poor.

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"And still the coffins came,

With their sorrowful trains and slow; Coffin after coffin still,

A sad and sickening show;

From grief exempt, I never had dreamt

Of such a world of Woe!

"Of the hearts that daily break,
Of the tears that hourly fall,
Of the many, many troubles of life,

That grieve this earthly ball-
Disease and Hunger, Pain and Want,
But now I dream of them all!

"For the blind and the cripple were there,

And the babe that pined for bread, And the houseless man, and the widow poor,

Who begg'd-to bury the dead! The naked, alas! that I might have clad, The famish'd I might have fed!

"The sorrow I might have soothed,

And the unregarded tears;

For many a thronging shape was there,

From long-forgotten years,

Ay, even the poor rejected Moor,

Who raised my childish fears!

"Each pleading look, that long ago

I scann'd with a heedless eye;
Each face was gazing as plainly there,

As when I pass'd it by;

Woe, woe for me if the past should be
Thus present when I die!

"No need of sulphurous lake,

No need of fiery coal,

But only that crowd of humankind

Who wanted pity and dole

In everlasting retrospect―

Will wring my sinful soul!

"Alas! I have walk'd through life

Too heedless where I trod;
Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm,
And fill the burial sod-
Forgetting that even the sparrow falls
Not unmark'd of God!

"I drank the richest draughts,
And ate whatever is good—
Fish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit,
Supplied my hungry mood;

But I never remember'd the wretched ones
That starve for want of food!

"I dress'd as the noble dress,

In cloth of silver and gold,
With silk, and satin, and costly furs,

In many an ample fold;

But I never remember'd the naked limbs, That froze with winter's cold.

"The wounds I might have heal'd!

The human sorrow and smart! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part:

But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart!"

She clasp'd her fervent hands,

And the tears began to stream; Large, and bitter, and fast they fell,

Remorse was so extreme;

And yet, oh yet, that many a Dame
Would dream the Lady's Dream!



Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake,
Gaffer Gray?

And why does thy nose look so blue!
""Tis the weather that's cold,
'Tis I'm grown very old,
And my doublet is not very new,

Then line thy worn doublet with ale,
Gaffer Gray;

And warm thy old heart with a glass. "Nay, but credit I've none,

And my money's all gone;

Then say how may that come to pass!

Hie away to the house on the brow,
Gaffer Gray,

And knock at the jolly priest's door.
"The priest often preaches
Against worldly riches,

But ne'er gives a mite to the poor,

The lawyer lives under the hill,
Gaffer Gray;

Warmly fenced both in back and in front "He will fasten his locks,

And will threaten the stocks

Should he evermore find me in want,


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