A TURKISH LEGEND A craven hung along the battle's edge, 361 And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel- And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout EDWARD ROWLAND SILL 182 A TURKISH LEGEND A certain pasha, dead five thousand years, And had this sentence on the city's gate So these four words above the city's noise And evermore from the high barbican, Lost is that city's glory. Every gust Lifts, with crisp leaves, the unknown pasha's dust, And all is ruin, save one wrinkled gate Whereon is written, "Only God is great." THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 183 NOW Rise! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on;. The others have buckled their armor Rise from your dreams of the future, Of storming some air fortress, Rise! if the past detains you, Her sunshine and storms forget; No claims so unworthy to hold you As those of vain regret; Sad or bright, she is lifeless forever,- Of a nobler strife to-day. RANSOM Rise! for the day is passing! The low sound that you scarcely hear Stay not to sharpen your weapons, 363 ADELAIDE ANN PROCTOR 184 RANSOM All men must give some hostage unto Fate On whom kind Death all tenderly doth wait To take his treasure. Larger swells the fee He counts to Fortune from whom Love doth flee, Or change unto the scowling brows of Hate. More sad, alas! his deeply mournful lot Whose hand the clasp of Friendship hath forgot; But costliest price of all the soul must pay, Which for some lure of earthly power or pride Hath cast its heritage of Heaven aside, And for such gaud hath given itself away. MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE 185 A NAME IN THE SAND Alone I walked the ocean strand, And so, methought, 'twill shortly be Will sweep across the place And yet, with Him who counts the sands, I know a lasting record stands Inscribed against my name ; Of all this mortal part has wrought, HANNAH FLAGG GOULD THE CAMEL'S NOSE 365 186 DIFFERENT MINDS Some murmur when their sky is clear If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue; One ray of God's good mercy, gild In palaces are hearts that ask Such rich provision made. RICHARD CHEVENIX TRENCH 187 THE CAMEL'S NOSE Once in his shop a workman wrought, "My nose is cold," he meekly cried; 66 Oh, let me warm it by thy side!” |