. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. ing brook fallOver the roadside, through the wall,In the shade of the apple-tree againShe saw a rider draw his rein,And, gazing down with timid grace,She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen wallsStretched away into stately halls;The weary wheel to a spinet turned;The tallow candle an astral burned;And for him who sat by the chimney lug,Dozing and grumbling oer pipe and mug,A manly form at her side she saw,And joy was duty, and love was she took up her burden of life again,Saying only, It might h
. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. ing brook fallOver the roadside, through the wall,In the shade of the apple-tree againShe saw a rider draw his rein,And, gazing down with timid grace,She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen wallsStretched away into stately halls;The weary wheel to a spinet turned;The tallow candle an astral burned;And for him who sat by the chimney lug,Dozing and grumbling oer pipe and mug,A manly form at her side she saw,And joy was duty, and love was she took up her burden of life again,Saying only, It might have been! Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall ; For of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these: It might have been! Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And in the hereafter angels may Roll the stone from its grave away! Page One Hundred and Forty-nine )«e ^Unnitxeit unit <9«c ffinmifUB 5jtjmns. The Night BeforeChristmas Clement Moore(Born July 15, 1779; Died July 10, T863) Courtesy, Colliers Weekly Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;The children were nestled all snug in their beds,While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap,When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,I sprang from my bed to see what was the to the window I flew like a flash,Tore open the shutters and threw up the moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,Gave a luster of mid-day to objects below;When, what to my wandering eyes should a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,With a little old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must b
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