"Some pray for wealth, and seem to pray aright; They heap until themselves are out of sight; Yet stand, in charities, not over shoes, As an old ledger page, What is the use?.... "The strife for fame and the high praise of power, Is as a man, who, panting up a tower, Bears a great stone, then, straining all his thews, Heaves it, and sees it make What is the use? . "Should some new star, in the fair evening sky, Kindle a blaze, startling so keen an eye "Who'll care for me, when I am dead and gone? Not many now, and surely, soon, not one; "Spirit of Beauty! Breath of golden lyres ! Perpetual tremble of immortal wires! "Doth not all struggle tell, upon its brow, "Love first, with most, then wealth, dis- That he who makes it is not easy now, tinction, fame, Quicken the blood and spirit on the game. Some try them all, and all alike accuse: 'I have been all,' said one, 'And find that all is none." What is the use? "In woman's love we sweetly are undone, Willing to attract, but harder to be won, Harder to keep is she whose love we choose. Loves are like flowers that grow What is the use? But hopes to be? Vain hope that dost abuse! Coquetting with thine eyes, And fooling him who sighs. What is the use? "Go pry the lintels of the pyramids; Lift the old kings' mysterious coffin-lidsThis dust was theirs whose names these stones confuse, These mighty monuments ERASTUS W. ELLSWORTH. 323 "Did not hesum it all, whose Gate of Pearls | Souls on a globe that spins our lives Blazed royal Ophir, Tyre, and Syrian Seeing this man so heathenly inclined, — Thou dost amaze me that thou dost mistake away, A multitudinous world, where Heaven and Hell, Strangely in battle met, Yea, all that we can wield is worth the end, If sought as God's and man's most loyal friend. Naked we come into the world, and take Weapons of various skill, Let us not use them ill. As for the creeds, Nature is dark at best; And darker still is the deep human breast. Therefore consider well of creeds and books, Lest thou mayst somewhat fail Nature was dark to the dim starry age For still she cried, with tears: The wanderingrivers for the fountain lake. An end that none attain, Argues a purpose vain. Plainly, this world is not a scope for bliss, What man is, in desires, Be man! hideous death! Stand up! Draw in a mighty breath! This world has quite enough emasculate hands, Dallying with doubt and sin. Come, here is work and a rank fieldbegin. But what and where are we? what now Put thou thine edge to the great weeds So shalt thou find the use of life, and see | To make me own this hind of princes peer, This rail-splitter a true-born king of men. F. M. FINCH. [U. s. A.] THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. By the flow of the inland river, From the silence of sorrowful hours So with an equal splendor So, when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, In the storm of the years that are fading, No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red; They banish our anger forever haste When they laurel the graves of our dead! Sends scorn, and offers insult to our taste." |