Graded Memory Selections Part 19

No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his father and his G.o.d.

--_Thomas Gray._

GRADATIM.[32]

Heaven is not gained at a single bound; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true, That a n.o.ble deed is a step toward G.o.d-- Lifting the soul from the common sod To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are 'neath our feet; By what we have mastered of good and gain; By the pride deposed and the pa.s.sion slain, And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, When the morning calls us to life and light, But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, And we think that we mount the air on wings Beyond the recall of sensual things, While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.

Wings for the angels, but feet for men!

We may borrow the wings to find the way-- We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray, But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; But the dream departs, and the vision falls, And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound: But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round.

--_J. G. Holland._

[32] From "The Complete Poetical Writings Of J. G. Holland,"

copyright 1879-1881 by Charles Scribner's Sons.

G.o.d SAVE THE FLAG.[33]

Washed in the blood of the brave and the blooming, s.n.a.t.c.hed from the altars of insolent foes, Burning with star-fires, but never consuming, Flashed its broad ribbons of lily and rose.

Vainly the prophets of Baal would rend it, Vainly his worshipers pray for its fall; Thousands have died for it, millions defend it, Emblem of justice and mercy to all.

Justice that reddens the sky with her terrors, Mercy that comes with her white-handed train, Soothing all pa.s.sions, redeeming all errors, Sheathing the saber and breaking the chain.

Born on the deluge of old usurpations, Drifted our Ark o'er the desolate seas, Bearing the rainbow of hope to the nations Torn from the storm-cloud and flung to the breeze!

G.o.d bless the flag and its loyal defenders While its broad folds o'er the battle-fields wave, Till the dim star-wreaths rekindle its splendors Washed from its stains in the blood of the brave!

--_Oliver Wendell Holmes._

[33] Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Reprinted by permission of the publishers.

LIFE.[34]

Forenoon and afternoon and night--Forenoon and afternoon and night, Forenoon, and--what!

The empty song repeats itself. No more?

Yea, that is life: Make this forenoon sublime, This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, And Time is conquered and thy crown is won.

--_Edward Rowland Sill._

[34] Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Reprinted by permission of the publishers.

EIGHTH GRADE

HYMN TO THE NIGHT.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls!

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there-- From those deep cisterns flows.

O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before!

Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!

Descend with broad-winged flight, The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, The best beloved Night!

--_Longfellow._

THE BUILDERS.

All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with ma.s.sive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fasten these; Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the G.o.ds see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house where G.o.d may dwell Beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb.