Thus, O Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region far away, As he paced thy streets and court-yards, sang in thought his careless lay; Gathering from the pavement's crevice, as a floweret of the soil, The nobility of labour, the long pedigree of toil. THE OPEN WINDOW. The old house by the lindens I saw the nursery window But the faces of the children The large Newfoundland house-dog They walked not under the lindens, The birds sung in the branches, With sweet familiar tone; But the voices of the children Will be heard in dreams alone! And the boy that walked beside me He could not understand I pressed his warm soft hand! The charming touch in the last stanza has a pathos peculiar to Professor Longfellow. The next poem is also one which, if printed anonymously, we should I think be ready to assign to the right author. THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. L'éternité est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans cesse ces deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux Toujours-jamais! Jamais-toujours !—JACQUES BRIDAINE. :: Somewhat back from the village street Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; An ancient time-piece says to all: "Forever-never! Never-forever!" the stairs it stands, Half-way up And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas! With sorrowful voice to all who pass : "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, It calmly repeats those words of awe : "Forever-never! Never-forever!" In that mansion used to be Free-hearted Hospitality; His great fires up the chimney roared; But, like the skeleton at the feast, That warning time-piece never ceased: "Forever-never! Never-forever!" There groups of merry children played; Even as a miser counts his gold Those hours the ancient time-piece told : "Forever-never! Never-forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding-night! There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow! 66 All are scattered now and fled, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain and care, Sayeth this incessantly: "Forever-never! Never-forever!" TWILIGHT. The twilight is sad and cloudy, But in the fisherman's cottage Close, close it is pressed to the window, As if those childish eyes Were looking into the darkness, To see some form arise. And a woman's waving shadow Now bowing and bending low, What tale do the roaring ocean, And why do the roaring ocean And the night-wind wild and bleak, RESIGNATION. There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howso'er defended, But has one vacant chair! The air is full of farewells to the dying And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted! Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapours Amid these earthly damps, |