The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1878-12-18

Here is the supplement-. surely, to
"Thanatopsis, !" if one is wanted
In a book called Laurel Leaves" pub
lished BY Mr.. Gill, is a translation from
the Spanish made by Mr.. Bryant, appear.
ing for the first time, we believe, in that
volume, though copied elsewhere since.
1t is as smooth and perfect as If original
and the gem called "The Price of a
Pleasure" is 50 marvelously lovely that
we bring it to sight here;
Upon the valleys lap,
The liberal morning throws
A thousand drops OF dew
TO wake asingle rose;
Thus, often, in the course
OF life's few fleeing years,
A single pleasure costs -.
The soul a thousand tears.
The writer of this article was 80 sur
prised at such beauty from Mexican
poet, Jose Rosas, as to enquire of Mr..
Bryant about him, and learned that
ittlevolume Of his; "Fabulas," has been
adopted as a reading-book in the schools
of the Mexican capital, and that Rosas
was known as poet before it's publica-
ton in 1870. 'a@
It is not unmeet to recall, in closing,
the poets sonnet on the month of Oc-
tober. Doubly beautiful it is while think
ing of the realized wish In the quiet and
lovliness of his Roslyn home, so much
enjoyed the last few years Of Bryant's life.
Though he died, as he had wished, with
the June about him, yet no less fulfilled
was the desire he here expresses, for, like
the lovely days of our vanished October,
he passed out Of his noble life from the
loving and reverent eyes of men:
Ay, thou art welcome. heavens delicious
When woods begin to wear the crimson
leaf
And sun, suns gGow meek and the meek suns
And the year smiles as it draws near its death
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to good old age released from care,
'Journeying in long serenity away.
In such bright, late quiet, would that
Might wear out life, like thee, mid bowers
And, de dsarsr YET, the sunshine Of kind looks,
And music Of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass.
Pass silently from men as thou dost pass.
When this third of November brought
again the poets birthday, my thoughts
chose this closing expression, which wi II
probably seem to many who bore the
anniversary in mind but the photograph
ed utterance Of their own hearts feeling
returning to them:
November lays our very losses bare
Stripping shadowy solace with the leaf;
The stark, reft branches sharply cut the air,
Giving naked poignancy to grief.
Yet, too, this thought with subtle comfort
steals
No secret now between the earth and sky!
All open unto heaven the spirit feels
While gazing there with unrestricted eye.
Twelve months ago within the poets home "
Unfelt the lateness Of the life and year;
Around him warm remembrance gave its
bloom,
While his fresh thought retained its summer
cheer.
In this dead birthday, how revives the last!
Friends, gifts and greetings-then he well
Thinking how much his utteranc in the past
With deepest faith this absence could fore
stall,
And count those present who had gone to God;
f. We offer in our heart the old-time word, =,
Nor lose the answer for the new years sod;
In lear, sweet verse of his, it still is heard