The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1885-10-17

The love Judea's Magi bore
The Christ-child in his younger day;
The beauty sad Ophelia wore
Ere sorrow stole her charm away;
And all the brighter bits of glee
Dropped from the bounty OF our Lord,
And daughters untamed rollickry
Seem gathered round this festal board.
Glad hearts! though pain may rack TIN
world,
The bleeding palms of Calvary,
Still DER we toilers freely furl
The ribbons Of chaste revelry;
And these are moments .Jesu sowed
Long years ago that we might reap,
And, as tonight, forget our load
And lovingly their festal keep.
Time breaketh soon the ties that bind,
Ere long we move in other lands,
Yet praise the Gentle and Sublime
| That We have met and shaken hands.
FLORAIsSUSDAY.
Come to me, o ye children sang the poe,
long ago
| To the miscellaneous noisy jewellers who stood
at his study door
And come to me o We children in accents
sweet and low
Said Christ to the little toddlers in the gol-
den days of yore
And we come O We little children with the
violet and rose
To the aisles of the Masters temple when
the voice Of Summer calls
fe come and his hallowed bless ing of peace
from all lifes woes
From the bountiful cup of his mercy into
your bosoms falls
le bear him with love for his goodness the
scented gifts of the Spring
The bluebells the primrose the daisy and
the lily of spotless white
And for them His angels of glory into each
heart shall bring
y love and beauty immortal on the folded
wings of the night
These flowers are the living emblems of the
Holy Fathers love
These songs are thy whispered tokens of
reverence and prayer
And know We he LOOKS from the heavens,
the infinite skies above,
To fold you and keep you forever under the
wings of His care
Oh, pure as the blossoms, ye children, be
through the painful life,
Snow white and chaste and spotless as the
wings of the cherubim,
And out of the toll and struggle, out of the
bitter strife,
We shall rise, eternal immortal, to walk by
the side of Him.
LINES, FOR A LITERARY SOCIETY
With mellow rune the voice of time
Calls through the shadows of "a year,
That bears upon its wings sublime
The faces of the friends grouped here.
Right swift Gods gift of days have past,
Novembers queenly crescent morn
Her gentle shapes of silver cast
Der pallid flowers that blushed in June.
The low songs of the Summer sea
Moan wildly in the wintry gale,
And Ger the hill-tops and the lea
The frost queen spreads her bridal veil
But DER the seasons solemn flow
Waits still the patient smile of God,
And yet in shaded valleys grow
The aster and the golden rod.
Perhaps vacant chair is here!
\ life, perfect soul, with breath
To brave the soft winds of the year
May with the ruler blasts of death
Have vanished. If il be we weep
The gentle one who faded so,
And, while she seeks the wakeless sleep,
We speak the tribute of our woe.
The years have found us with our songs
And books, and thoughts of famous men,
Enslaved sincerely by the things
That bind the welders of the Den.
And Whittier human love divine,
And Tennyson's reforming bell,
Have born us upward on their rhyme
Where "Tlny-Tim" and "Dora" dwell.
And we have felt the splendor wrought
When Bryant's pen the forests lit,
And loved the manakins of thought
The architects of Holmes wit.
God grant or souls may reach the heights
Towards which such earnest bosoms
swell,
And lave in the meodious flights
That crown the angel Ariel.
beautiful, Dan" said Benny, for you
practical old fellows who can't afford
time for the romantic and soul-stirring
Lyrics of the better singers, but even
in your verse must have a reference to
the why and wherefore, the whence and
how.
Just as naturally as could be, Phineas
followed up his first appearance with a
score more ''effusions" of the same, Or
der, until the chord that produced them
lost its divine tremor from over-pro-
duction and began to let fall such sur
prising medleys as these:
INCENTIVE
Drop, drop, drop,
| hear the stitches of time
From the garments rare of the days, tina
fall
Like Autumn leaves from the ivied wall
That sewers youth from its prime.
Drop, drop, drop,
| hear the stitches of time,
And the solemn rune as the needles fly
To the beautiful volume of songs in the sky
Lifts my soul on the wings of rhyme
SIMILITUDE
The linnet hangs on the cid church wall,
The thrush on the apple-tree bough;
My soul suspends with quivering joy
On the edge of an olden VOW.
The swallow swrls through the haunted
air.
| The robin twits to its mate;
My heart lifts up to the azure of hope
And webs with the minstrel fate.
DAWN AND TWILIGHT.
| The mould wet wind creeps inward from