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Show THE 'FRIENDS THOU HAST. (The prize poem by Myra A. Wood, who won the Tarbet medal in the St. Mary's Academy competition.) How like the lily's chalice white. With quivering heart of fairest gold, Or like the glorious guiding light, That shone of yore on Orient night. And Bethlehem's glad tidings told. Is that fair brossom of the heart , Tha; rarest flower of fleeting time, That star of life, whose rays impart A joyousness surpassing art The star of friendship, sweet sublime? The mirror, brow with laurel bound, The famous wizard of the quill. The statesman, high in rank, renowned, The quivering depths of joy ne'er sound Till taught by gentle friendship's skill. As soft we turn fair History's leaves Or parchments old and sear unroll The vine of elorv. clineinc. weaves E'er round his name who hard achieves That towering summit of the soul. The golden crown true friends bestow Alight with many a heart-gem's ray, None but the lofty brow can know E'en as the height is capped with snow Ne'er seen on hill in Junetide day. And as the tales of yore we -con Of lifelong loves, death ne'er could part Of David and his Jonathan, Of him who joyous rested one His Savior's loving,, grieving heart. We yearn for frienship's seed to grow To grow and thrive, as each doth wind Along his path of life, when lo! Death's kindly outstretched hand will show The blossomed lily of the mind. Full many a dawn must kiss the sky E'er 'neath the sculptor's chisel skilled A beauteous marble form doth lie. And many a day must fade and die E'er friendship's temple slow we build. And in that temple's towering height To gladden pilgrims as they plod Adown life's way, ne'er wavering, bright A flame doth glow and, shining, light The golden pathway up to God. O friendship! balm of hearts divine. Sweet mirror of celestial love, O light of life die not, but shine Thro' endless years, for power is thine, To link our hearts with souls above. As touched by radiant rays of gold Caressed by dewy even wind The fragrant bud doth slow unfold And skyward grow from blossomed wold A flower most perfect of her kind. So may the petals of our soul Soft blessed with light by friendship given. And wooed with tears of grief unroll Into a pure and beauteous whole, Into a perfect rose of Heaven. |