The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1895-04-20

sorrow both of heart and mind. Hayne
was one of those poets who worked in pa
thence. and found a pleasure, oftimes a
disappointed pleasure, in his humble work.
vet he toiled on, forever hearing
In his soul the music
OF wOnderful melodies
Through nearly all of his poems is vein
of pathos influenced greatly by his terrible
physical sufferings; yet he wrote in spirit
of heroic resignation that reveals the true
nature Of the man. Here is probably his
best known poem-the sweetest song of
this southern poet
THE SOLITARY LAKE.
From garish light and life apart
Shrined in the woodlands secret heart.
With delicate mists of morning inrled
Fantastic DER its shadowy world.
The lake yapOrous vision. CLEANS
50 vaguely bright, my fancy deems
lis hut an airy lake II dreams
DreamIike. in curves Of galest gold.
The wavering mistwreaths manifold
Part in long riffs, through which view
Grey islets throned in tides as blue
As IL piece OF heaven WlthdaWu-
Whence hints of sunrise touch the dawn
Had brought 20 earth its sapphire GLOW,
And smiled, second heaven below,
Dreamlike. in htfli. murrnurous signs.
hear the distant west wind rise,
And, down the hollows wandering, break
Ia gurgling ripples on the lake,
Round which the YapoTs, still outspreat.
Mount wanly widening overhead,
Till flushed by morning. primrose red
DreamIike. each slow. ft-pulsing. surge
Hath tapped the calm AXES emerald verge,
sending, where'er its tremors pass,
Los whisPerings. through the dew-wet grass
Faint thrills of fairy sounds that creep
To fall in neighboTing hooks asleep
or melt in rich. low WaFhlings, made
BY soma winged Ariel Of the glade.
with Frightening morn the meek bir,i's lay
Grows stronger mellower far away
Mid dusky reeds which even the noon
Lights not, the lonely hearted loon
Makes answer, her shrill music shorn
of half its sadness; day, full-boFn,
Doth Fout all sounds and sights toFioril
All! still something strange and rare
OeTTules this tranquil earth AMI air.
casting DER both glamour known
To their enchanted realm alone;
Whence shines. as twers q spirits haee.
The sweet COY genius Of the place,
Yon lake heheld a. If IN trance.
The beauty Of whose shy romance
fccl-whafeyer shores and sk1eT
May charm heneei0rth my wondering eyes,--
shall rest. undimmed by faint OF stain
Mid lonely hywnys Of the hrain-
There, with is haunting grace TO seem
Set in che Landscape q dream.
From the hills Of Georgia It's but
short distance - the matter Of a few
pages-and we breathe the mountain air
Of New England Rose Terry Cook viii
tell US in an almost magic flow. the story
of
TUE TWO VILLAGES.
over the river. on the hin,
Lfeth a village white and stu;
All around Il the forest trees
SILVER and whispeg in the hreezc;
over Il sailing shadows 20
OF soaring hawk and screaming crow,
And fnoutains grasses. low and sweet.
Grow in the middle Of every street.
over the river under the hin,
Another village lieth still
There see in the cloudy night
Twinkling stars Of household light
Fires that CLEAN from the smithy d0oF.
MiSts that curl on the river shore;
And in the ruad no grasses grow,
For the wheels that hasten 10 AMI fro.
IA that village on the hill
Never is sound Of smifhy or mill:
The hunsesare thatchess v it'll gnlssAnd uowers.
Never clock - toll the hour.
The mar!-ie doors are always shut
All tho villagers lie asleep
Never grain 20 SOW or nap
Never IN dreams - moan or sign
silent and idle and low thev lie
In that village under the hill,
When the night IS starry and sJil,
Many weary soul In prayer
Looks 70 the other village there,
And weeping and signing. loogs IN 90
I'D to that home from this below.
Longs 10 sleepin the forest wild,
Whittier have vanished wife and chilli
And heareih, praying, this answer tail;
A sound Of breakers strikes the ear, and
the waves dash into thousands Of white
caps as far as the eye can see around the
Isles Of Shoals; but above the voices Of
wind and wave comes the song Of the isl
and bard-Celia Thaxtcr
i dear little maid came skipping out
IN the glad, new day with merry shout;
With dancing feet and dying hair
She sang with JOY in the morning air
Don't sing before breakfast you'n CRY before
What eroak 10 carkeu the child 5 delight
And the stupid old nurse again and again,
Repeated the ancient, dull refrain
The child paused, trying 70 understand;
But her eyes saw the great world rainbow-spa
Her little light feet hardly touched the earth,
Never rafnd.--eont listen, 0 sweet little maid
Make sure Of your morning song, saiuf
And II pain must meet you, Why all the more
BE glad Of the rapture that came before
Now let the urchin Wit speak These
few lines are from the pen Of Richard
Brinsley sheridan who shortly before
Christmas received a bill from tailor
named Berry, with an expression of hope
that at this JOYOUS season Of the year the
account might be settled. To the note
Sheridan sent the following reply
Here is a MULBERRY.
To send me your Bribery.
Before il was DeV1-Berry.
Your father, the Klder-Berry.
Would not have been such Goose-Berry,
Now don't look 50 Blackberry.
For don't care a Straw-Berry
Here Is a lesson for life time-and
what would be the result should its sim
Pile teachings sink deep into the reader
heart, not to lay there dormant but to
bear fruit in the coming years
TURNING THE FLOWERS.
out in the country, where two roads met.
A cottage with open door f0und
The board for the evening meal was set,
The good wife BUSTED busly round.
II was hOmeiy and plain--but oh, so sweet.
With rose and lavender freshly cnled.
A beautiful babe to sleep lay lulled.
/ sat me down with hidden right,
And 4 sense Of comfort over me STOLE
The board, though hOmely was clean and white.
And flowers were upon it-set in in a bowl
And the good wife said unto me, her guest.
Az she twisted the blooms in the bowl SO brown:
Il like TO turn what are freshest and best
TOthe side where the man Of the house sitsdowu'
looked at the nowers-so white, 50 red;
gIzed at the happy faced, busy wife,
And That is a nice idea, said;
II wish we could carry il all through life.
For the world would be far happier place,
And many a CLINT through the darkness loom,
we turned the flowers with tactful grace.
And showed the glory instead Of the gloom.
If Mrs Hemans were alive today and
could see this tribute-in its way-to her
genius. it is doubtful whether its meaning
would unfold itself with any greater ease
than at present
THE THYROID GLAND.
with apologies to Mrs. Hernans
I'VE hear thee speak of The thyroid gland
But what thou sly'st we don't understand:
Professor. where does that acnus dwell?
We hashed 0ur dissection, and can't quite tell.
10 If,fa Hnrru