Identifier: cambridgebookofp00rog (find matches)
Title: The Cambridge book of poetry and song
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors: Rogé, Mme. Charlotte Fiske (Bates) 1838- ed. (from old catalog)
Subjects: English poetry American poetry
Publisher: New York, T. Y. Crowell & co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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Like the Prophets two or three ber-ries In the top of the uppermost bough. We cordially greet each other In the old familiar tone:And we think, though we do not say it, How old and gray he is grown I We speak of a Merry Christmas,And many a happy New Year; But each in his heart is thinking Of those that are not here. We speak of friends and their for-tunes. And of what they did and said, Till the dead alone seem living. And the living alone seem dead. And at last we hardly distinguish Between the ghosts and the guests; And a mist and shadow of sadness Steals over our merriest jests. ST A Y, ST A Y AT HOME, MY HEART,AND REST. Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest;Home-keeping hearts are happiest.For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care;To stay at home is best. Weary and homesick and distressed,They wander east, they wander west.And are ballled and beaten and blown about By the winds of tlni wilderness of doubt;To stay at home is best. i>^ ■^^SSfe
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MAIDEN AND WEATHERCOCK. Page 343. LONGFELLOW y>A:i Then stay at home, my heart, and rest:The bird is safest in its nest;Oer all that flutter their wings and %,A hawk is hovering in the sky:To stay at home is best. NATURE. As a fond mother, when the day is oer,Leads liy the hand her little child to bed,Half-willing, half-reluctant to be led,Anil leave his broken j)Iaythings on the floor.Still gazing at them through the open door;Nor wholly reassured and com-fortedBy promises of others in their stead,Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;So Nature deals with us, and takes awayOur playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay.Being too full of sleep to under-stand How far the unknown transcends the what we know. THE TIDES. I SAW the long line of the vacant shore,The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,As if the ebbing tide would flow no more. Then heard I

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