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Show What Might He Ion. Trtiat mtk'lil b (lyno it men wcr wtan V hat glir(ii!i deeds, my suffering brothor, Would they unite. In love und rh-lit. And ccaso their scoi-ii of ono another. Cppronslon'i heart mmht ln Inibaeil Willi kiiiillinif dnp of liivinu kliidnc:, A ri.t knewledue iur, I'rom shore lo shore, I-lyht on tho ejus of meutal hlinilnens. Jl slavery, wurfiire, lies nd wronus; AU vice and trliuu iniidit ilt Ug('therj Anil wine and corn, To each nmu boru. Bo free o wai mlh in e.iinnier weather. The. uieaiiMt wretch tbilt ever trod, Tho deepest sunk in Kuill anil sorrow, .!ii;lit stand erect. In scif i'esH'cl. And .liar tit lut'iiiiiiif world tomorrow. What minlit 1)0 ilonc? This nilnht b done: And more than this, my mirTeriiiK brother .More tlmii the tongue K'cr said or siinir. If uieii wcru wioe unit luvisl each other. Cliai'ltis Muckay. 3Iemnry Is rt)s"ain. They are oor Who have loi noihiiut: they are poorer far Who, l.wiiu;. have fiiivonen; tliey iiiust piKir Of nil who lose and wish they iuiKl.it forget. F'or life is one. and in iu iiurii mid winif Tliere runs a thread of jfotd Ihal ulittera fair. And sometimes In tho pattern shows most sweet Whero there are somber eolors. It Is true That we huvo wupt. lint ob! this thread of fold We would not hnvo It tanili-h; let us turn Oft nuil look buck UKn the wondrous web, And when it shinolh sometimes we shall knoir that memory is possession. Jean luKt'low. A Sung. A sent.' for the Kil l I love l.od love her! A sonc for tho eyes of tinnier shine. And 1 ho fnurraiit mouth that melts on mine. The shimmering tresses uneont rolled That clasp her neck with tendril koIiI: The blossom mouth and Hie dainty chin. And tho little diinph s out and iu The Bill I lino Uod love tor! A souk for tho Kirl I loved liod love her! A sons for the eves of fiuled HkM, And tlie clieek w hose reil roe waned to white: The quiet Irow Willi Us shadow uud Kleam, And tho dark liuir clroopi-il iu a long, deep dream; The small bunds crossed for thulr churchyard rest. And tho lilies dead on her sweet dead breast The k'irl I loved -Ood love her! Frederick IjaiiKbritltre. "litis linen." That melancholy phrase, "It miglit havobeca," However sad, doib il.s heart enfold A bidden Kenn of promise; for I bold WinftriTMiyif hare liti u sfiul. be. Thoinrh in Koine other realm and lifo the soul eu.t win The Koal that erst wh (Hmsible. Hut cold And cruel as the sound of frozen mold IlropiHsi on a eollla are the words has been." "blie has been lieuiillful," "He has been yreat," "Home has lieen powerful," we sinh and say. It is the pilyintf crust wo toss decay. The dlrue wo breathe o'er some degenerate state. An epitaph for Fame's unburled dead. Uod pity those wiio live P) bear it said! -Klla Whculer Wilco. |