. Class book of poetry: consisting of selections from distinguished English and American poets, from Chaucer to Tennyson. The whole arranged in chronological order, with biographical and critical remarks . nds the old schoolmate in his eyes —Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fillAs Joe looks fondly up at Bill. Ah! pensive scholar, what is fame ? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwinds fickle gust. That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe. The weary idol takes his stand, Holds out his bruised and aching hand. W
. Class book of poetry: consisting of selections from distinguished English and American poets, from Chaucer to Tennyson. The whole arranged in chronological order, with biographical and critical remarks . nds the old schoolmate in his eyes —Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fillAs Joe looks fondly up at Bill. Ah! pensive scholar, what is fame ? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwinds fickle gust. That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe. The weary idol takes his stand, Holds out his bruised and aching hand. While gaping thousands come and go — How vain it seems, this empty show! — Till all at once his pulses thrill: Tis poor old Joes God bless you. Bill! HOLMES. 387 And shall we breathe in happier spheresThe names that pleased our mortal ears,In some sweet lull of harp and song,For earth-born spirits none too long,Just whispering of the world below,Where this was Bill, and that was Joe? No matter; while our home is here,No sounding name is half so dear;When fades at length our lingering day,AVho cares what pompous tombstones say?Read on the hearts that love us jacet Joe. Hie jacet LOWELL. (James Russell Lowell, 1819 —still living.) The First Snow-Fall. The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the nightHad been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlockWore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-treeWas ridged inch deep with pearl. From sheds new-roofed with CarraraCame Chanticleers muflled crow, The stiff rails were softened to swans-down,And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky,And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, Like brown leaves whirling by. 388 LOWELL. 389 I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood;How the flakes were folding it gently, As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own lit
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