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If they catch one sight of the crowned | Through the shadowy hush as white brow,
wings win; A sunbeam glances from bough and Peace be to this house, and to all within! bough.
The little children sleep soft and If a low voice thrills in the air along,
sweet;It is but the dying note of the song.
Who stands beside them with soft white
1840(DAUGHTER of Vice-Admiral George Davies; born at Poole, Dorsetshire, in 1840, and was married in 1863 to Mr. Thomas Webster, Fellow and Law Lecturer of Trinity College, Cambridge. Among her works are Blanche Lisle, and Other Poems, 1860; Lilian Gray, 1864; Prome theus Bound, Dramatic Studies, 1866;, A Woman Sold and Other Poems, 1867; Medea, 1868: The Auspicious Day, 1872; Yu Pe Ya's Lute, 1874; Disguises, 1879; A Book of Rhymes, 1881; In a Day, 1882. Her earlier poems were produced under the nom de plume of Cecil Hume.” She was a contributor for some years to the Examiner, from which many of her articles and reviews have been collected in the volume A Housewife's Opinions, 1879.]
TO ONE OF MANY. WHAT! wilt thou throw thy stone of | That I should fail to know the wrong malice now,
from right. Thou dare to scoff at him with scorn or He hath done evil - let not any tie blame?
Of birth or love draw moral sense He is a thousand times more great than
awry. thou: Thou, with thy narrower mind and lower aim,
And though my trust in him is yet full Wilt thou chide him and not be checked
strong by shame?
I may not hold him guiltless, is the
dream He hath done evil — God forbid my That wrong forgiven is no longer sight
wrong, Should falter where I gaze with loving And, looking on his error, fondly deem eye,
That he in that he erreth doth but seem.
ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN.
1841(Born August 18, 1841. Graduated from the University of Glasgow. His first work, Undertones, appeared in 1860 and was followed by Idyls and Legends of Inverburn in 1865, and London Poems in 1866. His later works are North Coast Poems, 1867; Napoleon Fallen, a Lyrical Drama, 1871; The Land of Lorne, 187.1; The Drama of Kings, 1871. He has also written several tragedies and dramatic pieces which have been successful. In 1874 a collected edition of his poems was published in three volumes. A new volume of his poems entitled Ballads of Life, Love, and Humor, and a Selection from his various poems were issued in 1882. Mr. Buchanan has been for many years closely connected with the Contemporary Review, in which publication many of his poems and essays have first appeared.] FROM WHITE ROSE AND RED." And its one white row of street,
Carpetted so green and sweet, O so drowsy! In a daze
And the loungers smoking still Sweating ʼmid the golden haze,
Over gate and window-sill; With its smithy like an eye
Nothing coming, nothing going, Glaring bloodshot at the sky,
Locusts grating, one cock crowing,
Few things moving up or down,
Gather glory from the air,
Far as eye can see, around,
Drowsy? Yea!- but idle? Nay!
Drowsy in the summer day
Fit to reach some ancient god
Gleaming like a silver shield
In the great marsh, far beyond
1844[EDUCATED at Oxford University. His first work was a prose translation of the Odyssey, in conjunction with $. H. Butcher, Fellow of University College, Oxford, - a work that has been most favorably noticed by students of Homer. He has also made prose translations of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus. His Ballades in Blue China, also his latest volume, Ballades and Verses Vain, have both been republished in this country. Among his recent works are a prose translation of the Niad in connection with Ernest Myers and W. Leaf, The Library, in the Art at Home series, and a volume on mythology in preparation. He is also a contributor to the English periodicals, and several articles in Ward's English Poets bear his signature.]
BALLADE OF SLEEP. The hours are passing slow,
All sounds that might bestow I hear their weary tread
Rest on the fever'd bed, Clang from the tower, and go
All slumb'rous sounds and low Back to their kinsfolk dead.
Are mingled here and wed, Sleep! death's twin brother dread! And bring no drowsihead. Why dost thou scorn me so?
Shy dreams fit to and fro The wind's voice overhead
With shadowy hair dispread; Long wakeful here I know,
With wistful eyes that glow, And music from the steep
And silent robes that sweep. Where waters fall and flow.
Thou wilt not hear me; no? Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep?
Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep?