5. On slumbrous wings the vulture held his flight; The dove scarce heard his sighing mate's comAnd like a star slow drowning in the light, [plaint; The village church-vane seemed to pale and faint. 6. The sentinel-cock upon the hill-side crew Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before,— His alien horn, and then was heard no more. 7. Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall crest, Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged young, And where the oriole hung her swaying nest, By every light wind like a censer swung: 8. Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves, The busy swallows, circling ever near, Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes, An early harvest and a plenteous year;— 9. Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast, Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at morn, To warn the reaper of the rosy east, All now was songless, empty, and forlorn. 10. Alone from out the stubble piped the quail, And croaked the crow through all the dreamy Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale, [gloom; Made echo to the distant cottage loom. 11. There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers; The spiders wove their thin shrouds night by The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers, [night; Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out of sight. 12. Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, And where the woodbine shed upon the porch 13. Amid all this, the centre of the scene, The white-haired matron, with monotonous tread, Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien, Sat like a Fate, and watched the flying thread. 14. She had known Sorrow, he had walked with her, Oft supped and broke the bitter ashen crust; 15. While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom, 16. Regave the swords-but not the hand that drew 17. Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on, Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune. 18. At last the thread was snapped: her head was bowed; Life dropped the distaff through his hands sereneAnd loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud, While Death and Winter closed the autumn scene. T. B. READ. HIS is the ship of pearl which, poets feign, The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings [hair. Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their shining 2. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl! And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! 3. Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more. 4. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 5. Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, Leave thy low vaulted past: Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! O. W. HOLMES. NOTE. THE SHIP OF PEARL is a poetic appellation for the chambered ' Nautilus, a kind of shell-fish, furnished with a membrane which serves it as a sail. The shell is a spiral, chambered shell, that is, divided into several cavities by partitions. A MOTTO. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! LONGFELLOW. S LESSON LXXIX. CURFEW. OLEMNLY, mournfully, doling its dole, The Curfew Bell is beginning to toll. Cover the embers, and put out the light; Toil comes with the morning and rest with the night. 2. Dark grow the windows, and quenched is the fire; No voice in the chambers, no sound in the hall! 3. The book is completed, and closed, like the day: 4. Song sinks into silence, the story is told; The windows are darkened, the hearth-stone is cold. Darker and darker the black shadows fall; Sleep and oblivion reign over all. H. W. LONGFELLOW. NOTE.-Curfew, the ringing of a bell at nightfall, originally designed as a signal to the inhabitants to cover fires, extinguish lights, and retire to rest: the practice was instituted by William the Conqueror, king of England. |