TheTimes' Warsaw correspondent says—Th singing of the National Hymn still continues. Indeed, though of Roman Catholic origin, and containing prayers for the dead, it has been recently sung during divine service in the churches of both Lutheran and…
There's music in the airWhen the infant morn is nigh,When faint its blush is seenOn the bright and laughing sky.Many a harp's extatic sound,With its thrill of joy profound,While we list enchanted thereTo the music in the air.There's music in the…
Arise, for the day is passing—
While you lie dreaming on,
Your brothers are eased in armor,
And forth to the fight are gone;
Your place in the ranks awaits you—
Each man has a part to play;
The past and the future are nothing
In the face of…
The following poem we regard as one of the most touchingly beautiful in the language, and well worthy of attentive perusal by every reader:Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,Filling the sky and earth below!Over the house-tops, over the street,Over the…
Tell me, ye gentle winds
That round my pathway play,
Is there no place on earth
Where printer's get their pay?
The whispering breeze went by
With accents filled with woe;
A voice borne on the sorrowing air,
In sadness answered "No."
Tell me,…
"Man was never made to mourn,"
Spring, Appollo, to thy feet!
Cast despairing thoughts away,
Taste the cup of life how sweet.
Seize the hammer, seize the spade,
Yoke the oxen to the plough,
And bright thy lamps of life shall be,
Earning plenty…
Suppose the little cowslip
Should hang its golden cup
And say, "I'm such a tiny flower,
I'd better now grow up"—
How many a weary traveler
Would miss its fragrant smell,
How many a little child would grieve
To lose it from the dell!
Suppose…
I know that it must be,
Yea! thou art changed—all worshipped as thou art— Mourned as thou shalt be! Sickness of the heart
Hath done its work on thee!
Thy dim eyes tell a tale,
A piteous tale, of vigils; and the traceOf bitter tears is on thy…
Oh! I am weary, mother,
And my eyes are dim with tears,
And the twilight shadows come and go,
Like mingled hopes and fears.
The world, 'tis vain, and dark, and cold,
Its frowns, they've wearied me;
Then let me sit and dream awhile,
Sweet…
Oh, life! I breathe thee in the breeze,
I feel thee bounding in my veins,
I see thee in these stretching trees,
These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains.
This stream of odors flowing by
From clover-field and clumps of pine,
This music,…
