SPEAK GENTLY. Anon. SPEAK gently! it is better far Speak gently! Love doth whisper low Speak gently to the little child! Speak gently to the young; for they Speak gently to the aged one Grieve not the care-worn heart; Speak gently, kindly to the poor, Speak gently to the erring-know Speak gently! He who gave his life Speak gently!-'tis a little thing, LIFE'S LIKENESSES. Anon. LIFE is-what? Ir is the shooting of a star That gleams along the trackless air, He shines and glitters for a span, And is forgot. It is the vermeil of the rose That blooms but till the bleak wind blows; Then all combined with sweets doth fade and rot. And such is man ; He struts in bravery for a span Life is what? It is the dew drop of the morn And such is man ; He's steeped in sorrow for a span, And is forgot. A stone whose fall doth circles make On the smooth surface of a lake, Which spread till one and all forsake the spot : And such is man; He's steeped in sorrow for a span, And is forgot. It is a bubble in the main, Caused by a little globe of rain, Whose fall destroys the fabric he has wrought: Swelled into being for a span, A shapow on a mountain side A cloud that does on ether ride, Driven by the northern gale with tempests fraught: And such is man; He hangs on greatness for a span, It is the sound of cannon near He frights and blusters for a span, Life is what? It is the swallow's sojournment, He rents his dwelling for a span, And is forgot. And is this life? Oh yes, and had I time to tell, A thousand shapes more transient still; But while I speak, fate whets his slaughterous knife: And this is man ; While reck'ning o'er life's little span, THE SILENT VOICE. Anon. Ir speaks to us, it teaches us-a mystery-a tone! We feel there is a silent voice that speaks to us alone: We cannot pass a blade of grass unheeded by the way, For it whispers to our thoughts, and we the silent voice obey. We climb the rugged mountain steep, we view the distant scene, Around, afar, beneath, the fields where Labor's sons have been; No hum of human voice is there; and yet can we depart, And hear not there the silent voice that whispers to the heart? We wander in the valleys, or we thread the mazy wood, Amid the giant oaks that time and tempest have withstood; The silent voice is speaking there in every leaf and bough, The voice that spoke in ages past, that speaks prophetic now. |