And his merry bosom swells Keeping time, time, time, To the tolling of the bells, To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. ANNABEL LEE. Ir was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden lived, whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love, and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling The angels, not so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes And so, all the night-tide I lie down by the side TO HELEN. HELEN, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore That gently o'er a perfumed sea On desperate seas long wont to roam, Lo, in your brilliant window-niche SARAH MARGARET FULLER (OSSOLI) Born at Cambridge, Mass: 1810-died 1850. THE TEMPLE OF LIFE. THE temple round Spread green the pleasant ground; Be of pure marble pillars made,— Time and tempest proof, Yet, amidst which, the lightest breeze The audience hall Be free to all Who revere The Power worshipp'd here, Sole guide of youth Unswerving Truth: In the inmost shrine Stands the image divine, By those whose deeds have worthy been, Priestlike clean. Those, who initiated are, Declare, As the hours Usher in varying hopes and powers, K It changes its face, Now a young beaming Grace, In youth seems wise,— What it teaches native seems, Its new lore our ancient dreams; Music flows around; Firm rest the feet below, clear gaze the eyes above, When Truth to point the way through life assumes the wand of Love; But, if she cast aside the robe of green, Winter's silver sheen, White, pure as light, Makes gentle shroud as worthy weed as bridal robe had been. RALPH HOYT. Born in New York City 1810. OLD. By the wayside, on a mossy stone, By the wayside, on a mossy stone! Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimm'd hat, Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimm'd hat. RALPH HOYT. ORAR OF THE UNIV 131 Seem'd it pitiful he should sit there, Seem'd it pitiful he should sit there. It was summer, and we went to school,- It was summer, and we went to school. When the stranger seem'd to mark our play, When the stranger seem'd to mark our play. One sweet spirit broke the silent spell,- One sweet spirit broke the silent spell. Angel! said he sadly,-I am old; Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow; I have totter'd here to look once more Ere the garden of my heart was blighted I have totter'd here to look once more. |